Excuses
by and she knew love
Summary: All they need is an excuse to cross that line. L/S
1. Drink

_**It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year **_**is on TEMPORARY hold while I try to figure out the next chapter. Meanwhile, this is up for anyone who's waiting for an update on that. **

**First try at first person. Let me know how it goes, okay? **

**Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, not mine. **

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Now, I ain't a violent guy. Impatient, sure, and quick-tempered, definitely. But not violent. Not intentionally at least.

But seein' Lil walk in this mornin' with that heavy look in her eyes, that same look that came after Joseph and all the other bastards who'd left her high and dry, makes me want to hurt someone. Badly. I take one look at her and know that this latest experiment—Taylor? Tyler?—has gone just like all the others.

I get up quietly and follow her to the bullpen. She hears me comin' and shoots me that look of hers, that one that says 'leave me the hell alone' but I ain't one for listenin'. Never has been my strong point. So I just tail her into the bullpen, tryin' not too look too worried about her, but subtlety's never been my strong point either. She sees right through me.

"I'm fine, Scotty," she says, her back to me.

"Didn't say you weren't," I answer.

She snorts. "The question's written all over your face. You're wondering why I look like hell."

No, I ain't wonderin'. I know. But pretending to be clueless for her sake, I say, "Yeah, I am. So why _do_ you look like hell?"

She tries for a smile and fails. I pretend not to notice. "Nothing," she says (lies). "Just tired, that's all."

"Okay," I agree, even though we both know she's lying. With Lil, it's always better to swallow her lies, so I do. I pour her some coffee, and she thanks me, and we go right on back to the bullpen, just like any other mornin'. Nothin' to it.

But she ain't okay. I see that right off the bat, the second she opens the case file. She misreads a phone number, and I wince when she gets yelled at over the phone for haulin' up some woman at seven in the mornin'. She mutters a quick apology and sets the phone back into the cradle, her cheeks heatin' in embarrassment. Now usually, I think she's the cutest thing when she blushes. Proves that she's a girl, just like any other—well, maybe not like any other, but a girl underneath it all. But now, it makes me clench my fist, knowin' her slip-up's a sign of how bad this last guy's affectin' her.

Is it an argument? I wonder. Nah, Lil would never be shaken up so bad by an argument. But what if the guy—_Trevor_, I remember—brought up somethin' she didn't wanna talk about? Like her childhood, for instance. I ain't even close to piecin' together what happened to her, but I've heard enough over the years to know Lil's probably got the crappiest childhood in existence. She always freezes up when it comes up, and I learned long ago not to press her. But maybe Trevor was an idiot and brought it up? Maybe he touched on somethin' she'd rather forget?

I shake my head, glancing at Lil over my desk. Whatever it is, I ain't happy 'bout it. If it makes Lil all stonewalled like this, I don't like it. But I can't do anythin' about it either; I ain't the guy Lil talks to about these types of things. I ain't sure Lil talks to _anyone_ about these types of things, 'cept maybe her cats. Which doesn't count, really.

"Stop looking at me like that," she says suddenly, glaring at me.

I pretend to be looking over her shoulder at the clock. "Like what?"

"Trying to figure me out," she snaps. "Just focus on the case, will you? We got a killer to catch."

Ouch. I ain't really stung by her tone, but I know she only gets all bitchy like this when she's on edge—or teeterin' on some emotional cliff. Which gives me another clue that this Trevor character's gotten to her—gotten to her bad. And I ain't a violent guy, but I'm prepared to do some violence now after seein' Lil go Ice Queen. But I can't, so I just look back down at my file and try to focus on the words.

All day long, I see reasons she ain't okay. She bumps into another detective in the hallway, sendin' her files flyin', and spends the next five minutes tryin' to figure out which paper belongs to which file. She gets into the break room and distractedly scoops a heap of salt into her coffee instead of sugar, which sends her gaggin' over the sink. She doesn't look at the file like she usually does, with that razor-sharp eye of hers that catches details none of us ever even think about. Instead, her eyes are far away, and I have to reach over and snap in front of her face to get her to listen to me. Whenever she catches me watchin' her, she either shoots me the Ice Queen glare or that fake-ass smile that doesn't fool anyone—doesn't fool me, at least. And I think 'bout trackin' this Trevor guy down and givin' him a real piece of my mind.

The bullpen slowly empties as the sun dips toward the horizon. Lil doesn't show any sign of stoppin', though, so I sit across from her and pretend to be as busy as she is. She pores over the files without really readin' them—twice I catch her readin' papers upside down—and sometimes jots down notes halfheartedly. I get the feeling that she's just burnin' time here so she won't have to go home—home to _him._ Which fans my curiosity up to a whole new level. But I hold back the questions, barely.

Finally, when we're the only ones left, she looks up and seems almost surprised to see me. "What are you doing here?"

I raise an eyebrow at her. "I could ask you the same thing. It's ten."

She does a bad imitation of shock. "It _is?_ I never noticed it got that late."

_Bull,_ I think. Aloud, I say, "Trevor's gonna be waitin' for you, huh?"

Emotion flashes across her face—anger, hurt, annoyance—but only for a moment before she gets that Ice Queen mask up and runnin' again. "I don't think so," she says coolly. "I told him not to wait up for me."

Well, that definitely confirms it; she's havin' troubles with him. Just like every other guy that's cropped up in her life. It makes me kinda sad to see it, see another guy fail her when she deserves so much _more._ But I can't deny part of me is glad. Part of me—the same part that gets so goddamn jealous—is doin' cartwheels in joy. Which makes me pretty much a selfish bastard, if you ask me. But I can't help bein' jealous, not when it comes to Lil.

"Oh, okay," I say, and her eyes catch mine. I can see then that she knows—she knows I know the truth. And just like that the Ice Queen mask slips away, and she sighs, weariness spreadin' across her face.

"It isn't any use lying to you, is it?" she asks, the coldness in her voice melting.

I smile and lean back in my chair. "No, it ain't. I'm your partner, Lil, and I'm a detective. I like to think I know when you're lyin'."

She smiles weakly. "I'm just a little off today, okay? But I'm fine, really."

"Whatever you say, Lil," I tell her.

She sighs again. "You know I'm telling the truth, right? I'm fine."

"I know you're lyin'," I say, catching her eyes. When she starts to protest, I add, "It ain't me you're lyin' to, Lil; it's yourself."

She scowls, her brow furrowing. "I'm not lying," she says firmly.

But she _is._ Sometimes, like now, I can read Lil like a book, a book that's been highlighted, annotated, and all that. I can read her that well. And I can see she's lyin', more to herself than to me, and it's that that finally shows me just how hard this is hittin' Lil, just how hurt she is.

_Damn,_ I think, clenching my fist. What the _hell _did this Trevor guy do to hurt her this bad, to hurt her so bad that she's lyin' even to herself over it?

She can see I don't believe her, I can tell. "I'm not lying," she repeats, just as unconvincingly as the first time. When I level a disbelieving look on her, she flushes.

"You can talk to me, you know," I say, which is completely uncharacteristic. Sure, I've wanted to get behind Lil's walls for about a century now, but the relationship between us? Strictly professional. I don't even _think_ of being Lil's confidant or whatever. But for some reason, right now, I feel like she needs someone to talk to and that I'm the guy to listen. So I say, "I'm a good listener. I got ears and all."

That brings a smile to her face. "And here I was thinking you _didn't_ have ears," she teases lightly, and I smile back. After a moment, though, her smile fades, and she says quietly, "I don't want to talk about it."

I raise my hands in surrender. "Hey, I know when to back off." My tone is deliberately light, but my eyes are serious as they lock onto hers. _I'm here for you_, I think to her silently. By the resigned look in her eyes, I think she gets my point.

"Anyway," I say, hopin' to lighten her up a bit, "wanna grab a drink?" Since she's avoidin' Trevor and all, I figure it ain't too much to ask.

She seems to reach the same conclusion. "Yeah, sure. Let me just close up these files."

She packs away the files she barely looked at all day and collects her coat. I slide on my coat too and wrap my scarf around my neck. Together, we collect our things from the lockers before taking the elevator down and leaving the building. In silent agreement, we walk to a bar near the precinct, leaving our cars in the parking lot. I figure the cold night air will give us some time to think.

We reach the bar and pretty soon, we're knockin' back our second beer. I'm startled when Lil calls for a third one. She ain't usually a big drinker, and I don't think I've ever seen her down more than two beers without callin' it quits. But she seems determined to get drunk tonight, somethin' I'm worried about.

She takes a long sip of her third beer, and I say quietly, nursin' my third one too, "Is it really that bad?"

She looks at me uncomprehendingly. "Is _what_ that bad?"

She ain't pretendin' to be clueless this time. I sigh and say, "Whatever's goin' on with your boyfriend."

She flushes, and a furrow appears between her eyes. "Nothing."

I decide it's time to push her a little. She's got enough drink in her to keep me from gettin' punched right off the bat for pressing her, so I say, "You're a bad enough liar when you're sober, Lil. You think you can lie to me after four beers?"

She eyes me over her beer, the gears in her head turnin'. As I wait for her to answer, I watch her eyes. They're beautiful, really. I ain't ever seen a shade so blue, so pure. They always show what she's feelin', a myriad of emotions swirlin' there. Except when she has her Ice Queen mask on, of course, which she does now. I stifle a growl of frustration and take another sip of beer.

"Just to clear things up," she says suddenly, "I'd never say this to you—to _anyone_—if I was sober, okay?"

I glance at her, at her clear eyes, and say in confusion, "But you_ are _sober."

"No, I'm not," she argues. "I'm drunk as hell, and we'll chalk it up to that, okay?"

Oh. _Oh._ To Lil, revealin' her issues is the same as revealin' her weaknesses, and if there's anythin' she hates, it's bein' weak. She wants to have somethin' to fall back on, so when someday someone might accuse her of bein' weak, she can say she was so dead drunk she didn't have any control over herself. I get it. It hurts that she doesn't trust me enough to just talk to me without an excuse, but it's okay. If she'll talk, I'll take it.

"Okay," I say, leaning my elbows on the table. "So talk."

She takes another mouthful of beer and swallows hard. "Trevor…broke up with me."

I swallow, fierce joy leapin' to the forefront. Damn it, I should be sad for her. I should be _sorry_ for her. But I'm not. All I can feel is relief. Relief that she didn't work out with him after all, that she's available again. Not that I'll ever work up the courage to make her _unavailable_ myself, of course. Like I'm doin' so often these days, I wonder why I'm such a coward.

She laughs, misinterpreting my silence. "It's that pathetic, huh? You don't even have a smartass comment."

I manage a weak smile. "It ain't that, Lil. I'm just…surprised. You two seemed good for each other." No, they hadn't. They'd been polar opposites from day one. But I want to make her feel better.

She smiles bitterly, and I know I've said the wrong thing. "Did we? Then it just goes to show that I can ruin even a fairy tale romance."

Damn it. She's pullin' all the blame for this one, like she always does.

I catch her eyes. "It ain't your fault, Lil."

She gives me a skeptical look. "How would you know?"

"'Cause you always do your best," I say. "You do your best, and whatever happens, happens. It ain't your fault."

She sighs heavily. "What if it was? He said…"

He _said…?_ Trevor is actually blamin' her for the breakup? Lil isn't doin' the guilty thing by herself this time? I feel a rush of automatic anger on her behalf.

"He said what?" I ask tightly.

She looks down at her beer bottle and runs her finger around the rim. After another moment, she answers, "We had a date last night."

_Last night._ I look at her, puzzled. "We were interviewin' a suspect last night."

She nods. "Yeah, that's the point. I completely forgot about dinner. He sat at the restaurant for an hour, waiting for me. It's not the first time it's happened either. There was that Carson case, and the Ellison one before that. He just had enough, I guess. He said…" She hesitates for a moment before pressing on. "He said I wasn't committed enough to the relationship and that I'd never have anyone, 'cause a man has got to be just plain stupid to put up with my work hours."

Like I said, I ain't a violent guy. But I am _definitely_ contemplatin' violence right there, lookin' across the table at Lil's sad eyes and her hands clenched around a half-empty beer bottle. Anyone who puts that expression on her face deserves to be shot to oblivion and have his bones gnawed on by a pack of dogs. I ain't even kiddin'.

"Now _that's_ just plain stupid," I say vehemently. "He ain't worth it, Lil. If he can't respect what you gotta do, he ain't worth it."

"Who _will_ respect what I do?" she asks. "Trevor's right; who will _ever_ put up with the hours I put into the job?"

"I will," I say automatically. And then curse inwardly when I realize what I've just said.

She freezes across from me, and a fleetin' look of shock flashes across her face. I chicken out instantly. "I mean, as a friend," I backpedal hastily. "A friend, Lil."

She stares straight at me, like she knows I slipped up. I give her what I hope is a convincin' smile, tryin' not to seem too tense. Is she gonna run? Is she gonna call me out on what I said? Or will she just ignore it, lie to herself about it?

She returns the smile slowly. "Right, a friend. What else, Valens?"

I can't help the pang of disappointment at her tactic of pretendin' it's nothin'. 'Cause I know my feelings ain't nothin', not by a long shot. I've known it for a while now, and for a second there, I'd thought maybe she would call me on it, and everythin' would come to light at last. But of course, she's Lil. She ain't gonna make a move first.

So I just sigh. "So what's up with tryin' to work yourself to death today?"

She sighs too. "Trevor's getting his stuff to move out. I didn't want to run into him packing."

Of course. Makes sense. I offer her a half-smile and raise my beer. "Lil, if he ain't gonna appreciate you, then I say good riddance."

She smiles wryly. "There isn't a lot to appreciate, Scotty."

Hell yeah, there is. There's so much to appreciate it positively makes me dizzy, and a man's gotta be blind not to see all the good in her. Where else are you gonna find a gorgeous woman so smart and strong and fierce? Where else are you gonna find a woman like that spendin' her days and nights tirelessly huntin' down the worst scum there is and givin' peace to the families? There ain't a woman like Lil in the whole world, I'm sure of that.

I shrug and say, "Matter of perspective, Lil."

She doesn't quite look at me. "Well…what's your perspective, Scotty?"

What? _What?_ I shoot her a startled look, wonderin' if Lil's actually askin' me for my thoughts on her, 'cause God knows once I get goin' on what's good about her, I don't think I'll ever stop.

She catches my surprise, and an adorable flush spreads across her cheeks. She ducks her head to hide it, but I see it anyway.

"As a friend," she says hastily. "What's your perspective on me, as a friend?"

"As a friend?" I repeat slowly, mullin' it over in my mind, wonderin' how to describe her without once usin' the word _gorgeous._ Finally, I say, "You're amazin', Lil. You got things no one else has. You're smart and the best at what you do and you really feel, you know? You connect with the victims, and you _feel_ for 'em, in your own way. And that makes you an incredible person and an incredible detective."

She smiles. "Thanks, Scotty."

She's sittin' a little straighter, like I've actually given her somethin'. And now I'm feelin' a little braver, so I add thoughtlessly, "It also helps that you're beautiful." Teasingly, of course. At least, my tone is teasin'. Inside, I'm dead serious.

Her breath catches. Even over the chatter of the bar and the music, I can hear it. The flush on her pale cheeks darkens, and this time, I don't pretend not to notice. I let a slow smile spread across my face as I watch her blush, a smile that turns into a smirk.

"You blushin', Lil?" I tease, raisin' an eyebrow.

"No!" she barks, but she's positively red now. And I thought Lilly _pale_ was beautiful; Lilly red-faced is simply breathtakin'. Not to imply that embarrassment suits her, of course, but there's just somethin' 'bout Lil blushin' that so adorable I have to clench my fists to keep from reachin' right across the table and kissin' her. I let out a deep breath slowly and try to calm my thoughts. _Breathe, Valens, breathe. _At the rate the night's goin', I'm gonna have to handcuff myself to the table leg to keep from doin' anythin' inappropriate to my partner.

I chuckle. "Okay, Lil, sure. We'll chalk it up to the drink."

She nods and, as if to prove it, takes a long swallow of her beer. Pretty soon, both our bottles are empty, and Lil's startin' to relax. She nods her head to the beat of the music, and I watch her, mesmerized by the way her eyes sparkle in the lights and the way that ponytail of hers jumps when she moves her head. There ain't a lot of women who can turn my head, but Lil sure is one of 'em. Hell, Lil's probably at the top of the list. I don't think I'd ever get tired of watchin' her. I'd like to sit across from her in the bullpen and just watch her everyday, but I'd be out of job pretty soon. _And_ we got killers to catch.

She looks over to the dance floor, where a dozen couples are dancin' their hearts out. There's a look of longing on her face, and before I stop to think about what I'm doin', I'm up outta my seat and takin' her wrist.

"Scotty—" she protests as I pull her from the table. "What—?"

"Let's dance," I say, knowin' it's probably a bad idea, what with me not bein' able to keep my hands to myself and all. But I can't say I care. _Chalk it up to the drink,_ I think wryly.

We reach the dance floor, and I pause. How close would it be professional to get? I wanna just pull her into my arms and crush her to me, like I used to dance with Elisa. I get the feelin' Lil's a more conservative dancer, though, and that I'll be walkin' outta the bar with a black eye if I try anythin' like that with her. So I just stop uncertainly, wonderin' if she'd be okay with me just puttin' my hands on her hips. _Her hips._ I swallow, my thoughts wanderin' lower before I can stop them. Oh God. I feel my fingers itchin' to just bury themselves in her hair as I drop her in a swoonin' kiss. Why the _hell_ did I put myself in this situation again?

Before I can chicken out completely and bolt back to our table, Lil catches my wrist. "What? Not up to it, Valens?" she teases lightly, pullin' me further into the dance floor. "You got no rhythm or something?"

It must be the drink—it _must_ be the drink—'cause I ain't carin' so much about not touchin' her anymore. I grin cockily and shoot back, "Show me what you got then, Lil."

And she does. Shockingly enough, she's actually a breathtakin' dancer. Swayin' her hips in the most mesmerizin' way, bouncin' up and down with the beat of the music, laughin' with the purest joy I've ever heard in her voice, she's the most beautiful thing I've seen since Elisa. I dance with her, keepin' up with her easily enough. I'm outta practice, but dance is like ridin' your bike; you never really forget. I remember all those days I spent dancin' with Elisa, to slow songs and fast, from her favorites to mine. It sends a pang of sadness through me, the thought of her. It's been a long time since I've really thought about her, and the pain ain't any less this time. Whoever said time heals all wounds was obviously high, or drunk, or both.

Then, before I can get too sucked into the memory of Elisa, the music abruptly slows. I slow too, breathin' hard, watchin' Lil. She's pantin' as hard as I am, but her eyes are sparklin' with a life I don't see there too often. I hesitate, wonderin' how we're supposed to slow-dance on our own, but Lil solves that quickly and efficiently. To my shock, she steps in and wraps her arms around my neck, her body pressed against mine. I freeze up, pretty sure I'm dreamin' or worse, drunk. 'Cause there is no way in _hell_ Lilly Rush is so close to me I can smell the shampoo she uses, so close I can almost feel the breath panting out between her lips.

"Lil…" I start slowly, knowin' if we stay this close for more than twenty seconds, it's likely I'll be gettin' a black eye.

She looks at me, and I see that she _knows_—she knows what she does to me, what she's _doin'_ to me. She knows suddenly how close I am to doin' somethin' completely, wholly unprofessional to her.

And she smiles. It's so beautiful I groan quietly and lean my head back, closin' my eyes. _God…_does she have _any_ idea that I got pretty much a _shred_ of self-control left at this point? Does she have any idea that I'm half a second away from crushin' my lips against hers?

"Hey, Scotty," she breathes, so close I have to lock my hands around her back to keep from touchin' her anywhere else.

"Yeah, Lil?" I say, hopin' I sound perfectly normal. It comes out kinda hoarse though, and her smile widens.

"Chalk it up to the drink," she whispers, grinnin'.

And I know. I know she's givin' me permission—or as close to permission as she can get. _Chalk it up to the drink. _An excuse. An excuse for us to forget that we're partners, to forget that there're rules against this sort of thing, to forget that there's anythin' standin' in our way. To forget that it ain't right that I'm fallin' heads over heels in love with my gorgeous partner.

I let out the breath I'm holdin' and dip down to catch her lips with mine. She reaches up to meet me, her lips soft and invitin', her eyes closed. It's like a dam has broken loose inside me; I can't stop myself anymore. My hands raise to tangle themselves in her hair, and I lean into her, tastin' the alcohol and slightly mint on her breath, feelin' my breath hitch as she winds her hands into my hair. God, she tastes good. Like mint and softness and a hint of vulnerability that has me groanin' against her lips.

I wonder breathlessly how far I can take this. How far does _chalkin' it up to the drink_ get me? I get a brief flash of Lil lyin' under me in my bed, and another groan escapes my lips at the thought. Is it possible…?

"I think this is going somewhere," she whispers against my lips, her eyes still closed.

_God, yes, _I think giddily, drunk on the thought. "Is it?" I whisper back hoarsely, holdin' her, hardly darin' to hope.

She smiles. "I don't know. But we're both drunk as hell—" we both smile here, knowin' it's probably the biggest lie we've ever had in our history together "—so why not?"

_Why not?_

I've never heard such beautiful words. I don't care that this is me and Lil denyin' that we're partners. I don't care that this is me and Lil breakin' a hundred office regulations. All I care is that I'm kissin' her, and she's kissin' me back, so _why the hell not?_

She reaches up to kiss me again, and I'm lost in her. I breathe in her scent, wonderin' if I'm dreamin'. If I am, I hope I ain't ever gonna wake up, 'cause this is as close to paradise as I can imagine. I clench her tightly to me, holdin' her like I always wanted to, kissin' her like there ain't gonna be a tomorrow, knowin' that when there _is_ a tomorrow, we're gonna keep goin' on like tonight never happened. Like we're just partners, nothin' more.

I break off the kiss, feelin' incredibly bold. "I think you're gorgeous," I whisper, catchin' her eyes. "You're just so gorgeous."

She looks startled for a split second, and somethin'—_somethin'_—surfaces in her eyes. It's there and gone before I can see it clearly, though, and she says, almost to herself, "Chalk it up to the drink." Our little (huge) lie of the night. Smilin' widely, she catches the same courage and answers, "Really? Well, I think you're the best thing that ever happened to me."

Now it's my turn to look shocked. She really…she really thinks that about me? She thinks that _I_, screw-up partner, screw-up boyfriend, screw-up friend, is the best thing that's ever happened to her? I'm touched. I'm beyond touched. I can't stop myself from kissin' her again.

She breaks away with a laugh, her eyes shinin'. I say, "You're the best partner any cop can have. I wouldn't trust anyone else half as much as I trust you."

She smiles. "Right back at ya, partner." After a moment, she says, more quietly, "I knew about Alex, you know. I could tell."

I ain't shocked. I kinda knew Lil would find out; she ain't a detective for nothin'. I just hoped she wouldn't bring it up. Ever.

I wince. "Lil, I wasn't lyin' to you, not really…"

She shakes her head. "You were. But that's not the point. The point is that I'm pretty jealous over her."

I can't help the wide smile that spreads across my face, a smile so wide I wonder why it's not splittin' my face clear in two. "You were _jealous?"_

She looks at her shoes, but even then, I can see her blushin'. "I wasn't…I didn't mean…"

She's losin' the courage we got from our excuse and losin' it fast. I gotta say somethin' or I'll lose her, so I blurt quickly, "Me too. With Joseph and that Ray guy and Trevor, I mean. I was jealous."

She raises her head to meet my eyes again, and I can practically see the boldness returnin' to her. Her eyes are alight with some indescribable feelings, and she says, "I always wanted to kiss you, you know. Even when I thought you were just the cocky bastard who'd been assigned to be my partner."

I laugh, part from amusement, part from relief that our little game isn't over yet. "I wanted to kiss you even when I thought you were some stick-up-your-ass workaholic who was my punishment 'til I could prove myself and get the hell out of there."

She laughs too. "You still want to get out?"

I look down at her, at her gleaming blue eyes and her half-parted lips. "Hell no. They'd have to drag me away."

We both laugh almost giddily, laugh at the sheer stupidity of it all, laugh that for once, we're bein' free with each other, without defenses, without pretenses, without walls. We're bein' honest, _truly _honest, usin' the excuse of chalkin' it up to the drink to mask our truth with lies. Everythin' I've said has been totally, completely true, and I get the feeling that everythin' she said is too. It's like we're meetin' each other for the first time.

"I'm afraid of spiders," she says suddenly, grinnin' like the cat that ate the canary. She ain't done with this game yet, and I sure as hell ain't either.

"I love apple pie," I answer, smilin' back.

"My favorite color is blue."

"Mine is green."

"I like classical music."

"I like any music."

"I don't think the break room coffee is as bad as we make it out to be."

I stop and laugh. "I gotta disagree with you there. Break room coffee is absolutely _awful_."

She laughs too. "Well, I kinda like it."

I shake my head and shrug. "Whatever you say, Lil." I watch her with a wide smile, and before I know what I'm doin', I'm kissin' her again. She leans into it for a brief moment before pullin' away, laughin'.

"Stop that," she says, slappin' my arm. "Don't you ever do anything but kiss the girls you're with?"

I grin. "Chalk it up to the drink, Lil."

She grins too. "Want to go sit back down?"

"Want to get out of here?" I counter.

And she stops. A fleeting look of disappointment crossin' her face, she says quietly, "We can't…not out there…"

_Not out of the bar._ I swallow. She thinks that the instant we step outta the bar, our little charade is over. That once we step outta the bar, we'll be partners again, professionals.

I don't want it to end.

"It's okay, Lil," I say after a moment. "We can still be dead drunk outta the bar." I smile wryly. "In fact, we're so drunk it'd take us all night to get sober."

Holdin' my breath, I watch her as she thinks about it. I pray she'll agree so this moment, this magical moment, can go on for just a little longer. So we can be friends—_more—_for just a little longer.

Slowly, slowly, an answering smile spreads across her face. "Right," she says, eyes dancin' again. "I forgot about that."

Grinnin' quietly to ourselves, we grab up our coats from the table, slap down a few bills for the beers, and stumble out of the dimly lit bar into the equally dimly lit street.

"Your driving sucks," she says abruptly, laughing. "If you weren't a police officer, I'd arrest you."

I grin. "You drive like a snail," I counter. "If you weren't a police officer, I'd rear-end you."

She laughs, and the sheer joy in it makes me break out into a smile too. She's just so damn gorgeous, laughin' and leanin' against my arm, alive in a way I've never seen in her before. I wish the night would never end.

"I like your tie," she says, eyeing it.

I glance down. It's my red one, my favorite. "Glad to hear it," I answer. "I like it too." Then, lookin' at her, I add, "I like your shirt today." She's wearin' that blue blouse that makes her eyes pop, the ones that make _my_ eyes pop too.

"I've noticed," she says in amusement. "You seem to like a lot of the stuff I wear."

"'Cause you look beautiful in all of 'em," I reply. And a shiver of excitement goes through me from head to toe, excitement that I can say this sort of stuff to her without gettin' punched in the face.

She flushes, but this time, she doesn't make an attempt to hide it. She just sighs contentedly and slips her hand into mine. I look down in surprise and then back up at her, the question in my eyes.

"Just felt like doing this," she says without lookin' at me. A small smile curves her lips. "Chalk it up to the drink."

Right. Chalk it up to the drink. The perfect excuse for the whole string of irrational things we've done all night long.

I check my watch and sigh. "It's gettin' late."

"How late?"

"Two in the mornin'."

She winces. "Ouch. We're gonna have a hell of a time getting up tomorrow for work."

I grin mischievously. "No, we're gonna have a hell of a hangover tomorrow."

After a moment, she grins too. "What, so we call in sick? Both of us? Boss will never fall for it."

"Then you wanna sit in the bullpen all mornin' starin' at files?" I ask wryly. "Feel free, Lil. I'm gonna be home sleepin' my hangover off."

She laughs. "Yeah, your hell of a hangover."

I laugh too. It's just so surreal to be talkin' to Lil this way, completely open and unafraid. I can say anythin' to her now; our little excuse has made sure of that. I can say _anythin'._

I realize suddenly that I'll never get a better chance, and that if I let this moment slip away, I'll regret it forever.

"Lil," I say, "we're still chalkin' this up to the drink, ain't we?"

She nods, smilin'. "I'm definitely not sober."

"Okay then." I scuff the ground with my shoe before lookin' straight at her, straight into those clear blue eyes. "Hey, Lil?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

She freezes for an instant, just an instant. And in that single moment, we both know that what I've said is true and that it ain't 'cause of drink, it ain't 'cause of anythin'. It's 'cause I mean it. In that moment, we know we ain't drunk, not even close.

And the moment passes, and we're 'drunk' again. She laughs, even though it's painfully forced, and says, "I love you too, Scotty."

I offer her a little smile of relief, relief that we're takin' this as a joke. It's amazin' to be able to say those words to her, and it's more amazin' to hear her say 'em back to me. I pretend, like we've been pretendin' all night, that she means what she says.

We start to walk in companionable silence, and soon enough—too soon—we're back at the precinct. I try not to sigh in disappointment as we start for our separate cars. Some part of me hopes feverishly that she'll turn around and tell me that we can keep bein' drunk, that we can be so drunk we end up in bed together, that we can just chalk it up to the drink afterwards. But the majority of me knows better. Most of me knows that it's just stupid to carry our lie that far, knows that Lil is way too smart to let it get that far. I know that. I'm still disappointed though.

"Hey, Scotty?"

I stop, lookin' up to see Lil leanin' against her open door, a smile on her face. "Yeah?"

"Thanks," she says simply. "For tonight. For letting me be Lilly."

Just Lilly. Not the Detective, not the strong woman no one gets really close to. Just herself, raw and un-walled.

"Thanks for showin' me Lilly," I reply sincerely, smilin' back at her. Our eyes catch over our cars for a long moment, and I wonder if this night's changed anythin' between us at all, or if we're just gonna come to work tomorrow and act like nothin' happened.

She seems to read my mind. A sadness surfaces in those expressive eyes of hers, and I know then what road she's goin' down. She's gonna forget this happened, bury it, and tomorrow, we're gonna be partners again—just partners. It's gonna be like this night never happened.

It makes me sad too, knowin' that this is probably the last I'll see of Lil like this. It's the last time I'll be able to talk to her like this, too, and it tears at me. Swallowing hard, I cross over to her quickly and pull her up into my arms, kissin' the life out of her, kissin' her like there ain't gonna be a tomorrow—and there ain't. So I kiss her like the world's endin', like I've always wanted to, like I probably won't ever get to again. I kiss her long and hard, committin' her breath to memory, her taste. Desperately rememberin' this moment, the moment when I kissed Lilly Rush and she kissed me back.

And then she pushes me gently away, and it's over—for real, this time. We ain't drunk anymore, and we ain't ever gonna be this drunk again.

We look at each other, brown eyes on blue, sharin' the end of an exhilaratin' night, both disappointed in its ending. Slowly, Lil smiles, and I force one too.

"See you tomorrow, Scotty," she says.

"Yeah," I answer. "See you tomorrow."

Tomorrow. Partners again, nothin' more. Like this night, this one, magical night, never happened.

I knew this would happen. I knew it would all end. So why do I feel so disappointed, so lost?

_Hey,_ I think wryly, shakin' my head as I slide into my car and watch Lil drive away. _Chalk it up to the drink._

* * *

**Leave a review if you have time! Do you want to see more of this or do you just want to leave it here? I can go either way. :)**


	2. Adrenaline

**I decided to expand on the idea a little. I switched between Lilly's point of view and Scotty's this chapter. Hope it isn't too confusing. **

**Disclaimer: Cold Case isn't mine. **

* * *

Two weeks now. Two weeks of bein' partners and pretendin' nothin' at all happened between us. Two weeks of pleasant hellos and complainin' 'bout the break room coffee (which I know now Lil doesn't mind too much about, but I ain't supposed to know) and workin' on a case from '01. Two weeks and not even a subtle look from Lil to show that we got 'drunk' off our asses and were _more_ than partners for a few amazin' hours.

I kinda wish I could forget. I wish I could forget that night ever happened 'cause I ain't good at hidin' what I feel, like Lil is. Now I can't look at her without rememberin' how soft her lips felt, without rememberin' the way she felt crushed against me. I look at her, remember that beautifully alive smile she sported, and know now that the woman I see at work is only half of Lil. Half of a woman who can be breathtakin' when she lets all her defenses go.

"Hey, Scotty. Scotty!"

I jerk at the call and look up to realize Lil's standin' above me, her coat and scarf on, her expression bemused.

"Earth to Valens," she teases.

I sit up straighter and clear my throat. "You leavin'?"

She nods. "Yeah, I thought I'd drop by the Stevens house, see how they're doing."

"You _do_ remember there's already a patrol car staked out there, right?" I say. "Ain't anythin' you can do right now."

She shrugs. "I just want to see if the patrol officers need anything."

Right. _Just_ to see if the patrol officers need anythin'. She thinks I don't see through her, but I do. I saw the moment she walked into the Stevens house and set eyes on those two little girls how hard the case hit her. Two little blond girls, age thirteen and age eleven, precious and naïve and wonderin' with that heartbreakin' innocence of theirs what had happened to their mother. Lil connects with cases all the time, but when she _really_ connects, she doesn't let go, not for anythin'. And she suddenly develops a need to visit the families for absolutely no reason.

I smile knowingly and pretend to play dumb. "Sure, Lil. Have fun with that."

She smiles too, knowin' I know, and says, "Don't get home too late, Valens. God knows you drive dangerously enough during the day."

My smile widens, and I wave as she leaves the bullpen after collectin' her gun. I watch her tuck the gun into its holster at her hip and admire how absolutely…sexy she looks with that firearm on her. I ain't usually into those fierce, independent types who can hand a man's ass to him on a platter, but I gotta say, Lil all holstered up and ready for action makes me wanna do some…pretty unprofessional things to her. _Especially_ now that I know what kissin' her feels like.

But I don't move. I force myself to just give her another wave when she turns back around one last time and watch her disappear toward the elevators. The whole bullpen seems duller without her workin' feverishly across from me, and I sigh as I flip open the files. I got a couple of forms to fill out still before I can get home, and I think about the empty night ahead. Yep, nothin' to look forward to until next mornin'—when I can get back to headquarters and see Lil again. When did my life become so pathetic? I've become a love-struck fool.

With a rueful chuckle to myself, I study the case files another time before clickin' on my pen and fillin' out the first form. Name? _Marie Stevens._ Age? _32._ Cause of death? _Stabbed twice in the chest. _And on, and on…

"Still here, Scotty?"

I look up to see Boss pokin' his head outta his office. "Yeah," I answer, noddin'.

"Everyone took off?"

I nod again. "Miller and Vera left about two hours ago. Jefferies and Lil left maybe an hour ago."

Stillman chuckles. "You working yourself to death there, Scotty?"

I shrug. "I got paperwork to do." And I ain't exactly up to goin' home to that empty apartment and lyin' in my bed thinkin' of Lil.

"Okay," Stillman says. "I might take off soon too. You should get some rest, okay? We've been on this case for almost two weeks now on barely a full night's sleep."

I nod. "Yeah, Boss, I will. I'll leave after this." I gesture to the last two forms I have, and Stillman nods. A moment later, he leaves his office, slippin' on his coat. He says good night to me and collects his things from the lockers before turnin' for the elevators. And then it's just me sittin' in the bullpen, me and a few other detectives pullin' a late night. With a sigh, I redouble my attention on the forms.

Relations? _Husband, Jerry, kids, Amelia (11) and Jackie (13). _Address? _514 Northwood Dr. _

The phone rings. I clear my throat and reach for it. "Detective Scotty Valens, Homicide."

"Hey, Scotty, it's Aaron."

I sit up a little straighter. "Aaron? Hey, man, what's up?"

"It's…it's bad, man."

I ain't too panicked. Aaron Terrence is an officer from Arson, one of the guys I sometimes grab drinks with. My brows furrow as I frown in confusion. Arson? What's that got to do with me?

"Yeah?" I ask. "What is it?"

"It's an arson downtown, big one."

I still don't see what this has got to do with me. "Yeah?"

"And it's…" He hesitates for a long moment before blowin' out a breath. "Scotty, it's that house you got staked out."

I freeze. "It's the Stevens'? It's…" I fumble for the case files, tryin' to find that damn address. "It's 514 Northwood?"

He sighs. "Yeah, it's that address."

I groan and run a hand through my hair as I lean back in my chair. "God. Is anyone dead?"

"We don't know. Just got here, found the patrol car of the two guys stakin' out the place."

"What about the guys?"

"Unconscious," he replies grimly. "Blows to the head." He pauses for a long moment, then says hurriedly, "Hang on, one of them just woke up. I'm gonna talk to him, okay?"

"Yeah," I say, mind whirrin'. Someone's torched the Stevens' house? It means we've gotten close, close to the killer. I think back to the clues we've gotten and try to connect them. The husband, the bartender, that jealous ex-girlfriend…And then, in that moment we detectives live for, everything clicks together.

The brother. Of course. It's so clear I curse myself for not seein' it earlier. He's the only one with everything—the means, the not-so-solid alibi, the strength. But the motives? I don't know. But I have that feelin' in my gut, the one that _knows_ he's the one.

I grab my coat and rush for the lockers. Takin' my gun, I head for the stairs, too impatient to wait for the elevators. I pound down the stairwell three steps at a time, wonderin' if the Stevens made it out okay. Hopin' the firefighters ain't too late to save 'em.

"Scotty."

I'd almost forgotten I had Aaron on the line. "Yeah?"

"It's…you sitting down?"

Somethin' in his tone makes me stop dead in my tracks. Wonderin' wildly if he's about to tell me that one of the Stevens—one of the _girls_—didn't make it out okay, I swallow hard. "No. Just tell me."

"The policeman who just woke up? He told me the last thing he remembers is Detective Rush going in the house."

My blood turns to ice. I feel like I've been hit by a sledgehammer.

"She went in at about 9:30," Aaron continues, his voice grim. "Last thing the policeman remembers is looking at the clock at 10:45."

10:45. I check my watch wildly. It's 11:30. Goddamn it.

"She didn't come out?" I ask desperately. "He didn't see her come out?"

"No, he didn't. Said she was in there the whole time."

Damn it. _Damn it._ What're the chances of Lil gettin' out of the house before the arsonist set the house to flames? What're the chances of Lil _not_ callin' me the instant she gets word the house is on fire? Which means she _does_ know and that she _can't_ call. Which means she's still in the house.

God_damn_ it.

I sprint down the remaining flights of stairs and burst out into the night air. Yankin' my car door open, I shove the keys into the ignition and take off down the street, right on through the red light.

"Scotty?" Aaron says in my ear.

"I'm on my way," I say tightly, blowin' through another red light. "Get…just…Just get that goddamn fire out!"

I snap the phone shut and floor the pedal. My thoughts race around and around in an endless circle of shock and cold fear. Damn it, damn it, _damn it._ Why the _hell_ had Lil been there? Why the hell hadn't I gone with her? She could've used backup. She could've used some help in there. _Why the hell wasn't I there for her?_

It takes under ten minutes for me to screech onto Northwood. By now, the house is lit like a beacon, flames leapin' for the night sky, and my heart is in my throat. I pray Lil got out okay.

I don't even bother yankin' the keys out of the ignition before I leap out and sprint for toward the fire trucks and police cars cordonin' off the area. A policeman throws up his hand to stop me, but I shove my badge in his face without stoppin'. Eyes wild, I rush up to the firefighters on the scene and spot Aaron by one of the ambulances.

"Is she out?" I breathe, pullin' to stop in front of him. "Are they still inside?"

He looks at me sympathetically, and I feel like he's punched me in the gut. "The fire's too intense to go in right now. They're still trying to kill it, and there hasn't been any sign of anyone. I'm so sorry, Scotty."

I don't think I've ever felt more terrified in my life, except maybe when Lil was shot. I swallow hard and try to keep some semblance of sanity as I stare at the blazin' house.

_What if she's gone?_

No. No, no, no. I ain't goin' down that road. Lil is fine. She's strong. She ain't gettin' killed by someone like Jay Stevens, a paper-pusher who probably doesn't do any exercise other than walkin' to his car in the parkin' lot. She ain't gettin' killed period.

She's gonna be okay.

* * *

Hot. Burning hot. I can't breathe.

I try to suck in a breath, and it sears my lungs, sending me into a coughing fit. Eyes burning, I turn over onto my side, throwing up a hand to shield my face from the heat.

What the hell happened? Where am I?

I push myself weakly to my knees and try to breathe evenly. The air is thick with smoke and heat, and my head is throbbing. For a moment, I just kneel there, trying to get my bearings.

The Stevens house. Jay Stevens walking in pleasantly, smiling and joining his family for dinner. And then Jay Stevens passing me, still smiling. A blinding pain, then darkness.

I reach up and feel a cut running across my forehead above my left eye. Okay, breathe. I don't seem to be hurt anywhere else. My chest is tight though, and I look around for the first time.

Flames. Huge and reaching, they're everywhere, engulfing what's left of the dining table and spreading rapidly across the ceiling. Heart pounding, I scramble back away from the fire, eyes tracking from side to side. Where the hell is the exit?

I suck in a breath and can't stop coughing. Smoke inhalation. I know it isn't good and that I won't last that much longer breathing this air. I've got to get out.

The living room is to the right. Forcing myself to my feet, I stagger out of the dining room, ignoring the pounding in my head. Blood runs into my eye, but I brush it away impatiently and keep going, one hand on the wall for support. It's getting harder to breathe.

I stumble through the living room and on through the hallway to the front door. Which, to my horror, is locked. I jerk on the doorknob and swear, slamming my fist against the door. Damn it. _Damn it._ The little window next to the door is too small; unless I suddenly drop fifty pounds, I'll never get through. _Damn it._ Panic courses through my system, overwhelming and unstoppable.

The cop in me slams down the walls. _Breathe, Lilly. Get a grip. Breathe. _

Taking a steadying breath, I stagger back into the hallway, only to find Eric Stevens, the father, slumped against the doorframe. Relief rushes through me; at least one of them is still alive.

I drop to my knees heavily beside him. "Mr. Stevens? Mr. Stevens! _Eric!"_

He opens his eyes sluggishly. "D—detective?"

"Come on," I say, grabbing his arm. "We've got to get out of here. The house is on fire."

He glances around in disbelief and stumbles heavily to his feet. "The house…what happened? What's going on?"

"No idea," I tell him. "The front door's locked. We'll have to go for a window."

He nods slowly, and we make our painstaking way for the nearest window in the living room. Eric leans heavily on my shoulder, and I spare him a worried glance. His face is ashen, and his breathing is shallow. He must have inhaled more smoke than I have. He'll be dead in minutes if we don't get out—and so will I.

I stifle the panic. We reach the window, and I rip off the burning curtains, using my sleeve to shield my face from the heat. Eric fumbles with the locks on the window for a moment before cursing.

"They're stuck!" he shouts frantically. "They're stuck!"

Terror. Pure terror washes through me at his words. The flames are clawing at us, we're on the verge of inhaling a fatal amount of smoke, and the window's _stuck?_ Damn it!

It takes my scrambled brain a moment to remember the gun at my hip. Cursing my stupidity, I weakly pull Eric back from the window.

"Let me," I say with a cough, drawing my weapon. Aiming it at the window, I shoot it out. Glass shatters deafeningly and rains down toward us, and wonderful, fresh air rushes in. It gives me a measure of strength and, to my horror, fans the flames licking at every corner of the room. We're practically swimming in fire now.

"Hurry," I urge, pushing Eric toward the window. He tumbles out weakly into the grass beyond, and I start to follow.

"My children," Eric breathes, coughing violently into the grass. "Detective, what about my—what about my girls?"

I freeze. The girls. I'd almost forgotten. God, _how had I almost forgotten them? _Those two little sweet girls, all blond curls, blue eyes, and shining smiles. Those girls that reminded me of the little girl I'd once been too, with my own baby sister with golden curls and innocent blue eyes.

Maybe they're already out. Maybe—maybe they got out first. It makes sense, doesn't it? They're smart girls. They would have found a way out.

I cling desperately to the thought. Reaching for the window frame, I take a step, the flames behind me crackling so loudly I almost miss the sound. Almost.

Crying. Girls crying. From inside the house.

No, no, _no._

I hesitate, torn. I should just throw myself out onto the grass and let the firefighters handle this sort of thing. I shouldn't risk my life on a suicide mission for almost complete strangers. I should save myself.

Right. And self-preservation has worked so well in the past.

"Stay here," I order Eric curtly. Without waiting for an answer, I bolt back into the heat.

* * *

My heart leaps at the gunshot. Almost before I can make a conscious decision, I'm sprintin' in the direction of the sound. My head's racin' with all sorts of thoughts. _Lil's been shot. Lil's shot someone. One of the kids've been shot. _It goes round and round, none of the thoughts makin' much sense.

I reach the side of the house, breathin' hard. The air's thicker over here, thick with smoke and heat. In the grass, a lone figure coughs and spits. It ain't Lil.

"Hey!" I shout, proddin' him. It's Eric Stevens. "Hey, where's Lil? _Where's Lil?"_

He looks up at me incomprehensively, and I resist the urge to shake him. Instead, I just ask again, heart in my throat, "Where's Detective Lilly Rush?"

He coughs, eyes waterin'. Weakly, he points inside the house.

She ain't…she ain't still in there, is she? Damn it! If Eric Stevens can get out, why the hell can't she? She's stronger than this! I swallow back the terror.

"She went back," Eric says feebly, pale sweat coatin' his brow. "She went back for the girls."

Good God. I feel like cryin'. I feel like tearin' my goddamn hair out. And I feel stupidly, stupidly proud of my partner's courage.

_Damn it, Lil,_ I curse inwardly. _Why the hell didn't you just get out? Why the hell didn't you just save yourself? _

But I know. I know why, 'cause if I'd been in the house, I woulda done the same thing. But knowin' that doesn't make the fact any easier to bear.

I start for the window automatically, but the heat and someone's hand clampin' down on my arm stops me in my tracks.

"No, Scotty," Aaron says quietly but firmly. "It's too dangerous. No one's going in."

"My partner's in there," I snap, jerkin' my arm away. "Lil's _in there._ She…God, she went back in for the girls."

Aaron shakes his head. "I know. I heard. But, Scotty…_Scotty!_ Listen to me! We go in there, and we're risking our lives too, maybe for nothing."

"It ain't nothin'!" I shout, furious. "It's Lil! It's my partner!" It's…God, it's the woman I love.

Why am I so goddamn _helpless?_

"Scotty." Aaron gives me a shake as paramedics rush up to Eric, pullin' out their first aid kits. I can't seem to focus on them. Distractedly, I stare at them until Aaron shakes me harder. "_Scotty."_

I look at him, the anger suddenly meltin' away. I feel suddenly weary. Numb. "What?"

"We can't do anything," he says lowly, "you understand? We can't do anything until the fire's out. Now Lilly's strong, right?"

Slowly, I nod. "She's stronger than anyone I know."

He nods too and claps me on the shoulder. "Good. Then you gotta believe in that, okay? You believe in her strength. She's gonna get out of this."

Yes. She's gonna get out of this. I force myself to believe it.

* * *

The crying comes from a shut door at the top of the stairs. I jerk the doorknob, only to find that it's locked. Damn it. Drawing my gun, I take a steadying breath before shooting the lock. In my weakened state, dazed by smoke and dizzy with the cut in my head, it takes two kicks to get the door open. Smoke rushes out, temporarily blinding me.

"Detective."

I whip the gun up instantly, training it on the vague form I see through the smoke. "Jay." His name comes out on a whisper as the smoke chokes me.

I can just barely make out his smile. "I didn't think you'd survive the smoke to get up here," he says. "I underestimated you."

"Where are the girls, Jay?" I ask tightly, stepping carefully into the room. The smoke's thicker up here—smoke rises, I remember—and I duck down a little, eyes narrowed, to try and get a clearer look at the man in the room. He's sitting down on the ground covered in smoke, smiling peacefully—insanely. I repress a shudder at the sheer craziness in his eyes.

"The girls?" he repeats. "Right here, Detective, where else?"

And then I notice the two forms on the ground beside him, one laying across his lap and the other in front of his crossed legs. They've stopped crying. In a moment of cold fear, I think they're dead.

"You bastard," I swear, rage coursing through me. "You son of a bitch. What the _hell_ have you done?"

He strokes one of the girl's hair and looks up at me. "Done? Nothing, Detective. Nothing beyond taking back what should have been mine."

My hands tighten on the gun. "These girls aren't yours, Jay. They're Eric's. You can't take back what's not yours."

His smile falters. "These girls should have been mine, Detective. This whole—Eric's whole _life_ should have been mine. I should have gotten the beautiful wife, the nice car, the two sweet little girls!" His voice raises, his face contorting in anger. "_I_ asked Marie to marry me first, _not_ Eric. He _stole_ my wife! _My_ wife! Mine!"

He's gone off the deep end. He isn't going to talk. And if we stay here any longer, we're both going to die.

"Last chance," I say, sounding much, much calmer than I feel. "Take the girls, and let's get out of here, Jay. You can still get through this. This isn't the end."

He smiles again, almost serenely, and it's the most insane thing I've ever seen, this man grinning in the midst of smoke and flames, happy. And it's what decides me.

I pull the trigger. The bullet cracks, louder even than the roaring fire, and he jerks in surprise, his mouth open as he falls backwards. I'm already rushing forward, reaching for the girls, praying, _praying_ they're all right.

"Amelia?" I shake the younger girl and feel an immense rush of relief as she stirs. Thank God. She sits up slowly, coughing, and I know she's inhaled way too much smoke. I've got to get both girls out of here, fast. Jackie doesn't respond when I call her, but there's a pulse. After a moment of gathering my breath, which is getting harder and harder to do, I heave Jackie into my arms and take Amelia's hand.

"Come on, Amelia," I choke out, staggering for the door. "We're gonna get out of here."

I reach the stairs and hesitate. Flames are licking up its length, and it looks way too dangerous to even try. But it's the only way out. After a brief moment, I release Amelia and instruct her, "Go to the window in the living room, okay? Get out of the house."

At the top of the stairs, I wait for her to reach the bottom, heart in my throat. I'm terrified the stairs will cave in on her, but, miracle beyond miracles, she makes it safely. Only when she disappears into the living room do I start to move. Carefully balancing Jackie, I make my way down the first few steps, but on the fifth one, the entire structure creaks alarmingly. I freeze, heart pounding hard against my ribs. _Please, please, please…_

"Detective?"

The childish voice makes me jerk, and I realize that Jackie's awake. She raises her head groggily from my shoulder and looks at me in confusion. "Detective, what's happening?"

Good, she's awake. I don't know if the stairs can bear my weight, but it has a better chance of bearing hers. Hurriedly, I set her down and say, "Get out of the house, Jackie. Down the stairs and get out the window in the living room. You understand me?"

She nods and practically flies down the stairs. I breathe a sigh of relief when she disappears the same way Amelia did. And now it's just me left.

I start down the stairs carefully, breathing hard. On the seventh stair, everything goes to hell.

The entire stairway gives way in a creaking groan. I grab wildly for anything to hold onto, any support, but it's all crumbling. The wood beneath my feet crack as it snaps, and I'm falling through in a blinding whir of flames and splintering stairs. Falling…falling…

And then crushing impact. I hit the ground hard, something cracking, and debris rains down around me, one plank of wood crashing down inches from my nose. For a moment, I just lay there, dazed, trying to breathe. I wonder wildly if help is coming. Are the firefighters on their way? Are they heading inside right now, looking for survivors? Will they make it in time?

And when I have _ever_ relied on someone else to save me?

So I roll over painfully onto my stomach, trying to push myself to my knees. Agony lances up my leg, and I cry out into the smoke, tears of pain blurring my vision. No. I can't be hurt. No, no, no…

I try to move my left leg again and the pain almost makes me pass out. It's broken, or at least injured. Damn it. _Damn it._ Clenching my fist in frustration, I squeeze my eyes shut and slam walls down on the panic. _Think, Lilly, _think…

With a mind hazy with smoke and pain, I can't seem to think of anything useful. All my instincts are screaming at me to just get the hell out of there, so I try. Weakly, coughing violently, I drag myself on my hands for the living room. The fire roars up all around me, the heat searing. The light-headedness is almost blinding. I can't breathe. Everything hurts. It's too hard to move. I just…

_Just stop,_ I think wearily, almost numbly. It's over. I close my eyes.

_Goddamn it, Lil, don't you give up on me!_

My eyes fly open. Scotty. Scotty's voice. _Here?_

_Get yourself together, Lil, and get the hell out of there. _

Scotty?

_Don't think! Just do!_

I almost laugh. I'm hallucinating up a storm if I'm hearing Scotty's voice in my head. But there's something there, something in his voice, that gives me strength. I can't stop. I've never given up before, and I'm not going to give up now.

Gritting my teeth, I force away the haze on my mind and pull myself to my knees. Dragging my injured leg behind me, I crawl for the living room. Flames leap and dance around me, and half the inner wall is gone now, but I can still see the window, almost glittering in the darkness of the night, clear of smoke. Almost there. Ten feet…five…

And then my arms buckle. All the smoke, heat, and pain has finally taken its toll. I just can't hold myself up anymore. _Fight it,_ I think weakly. But I can't. I can't anymore.

Darkness overwhelms me.

* * *

When the first girl pops out, I feel like I'm dreamin'. She's sooty, coughin', and bleary-eyed, and she's one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. If _she_ can get out, if this little girl who's barely eleven years old can get out, then Lil can. Lil will.

Paramedics and firefighters rush over to her, shoutin' and grinnin'. They grab her away from the lickin' flames and swarm her with blankets and medicine. I just stand behind them, starin' hard into the almost-blindin' flames, waitin' for that second blond head to pop out. Waitin'…waitin'…

When she comes, I almost miss her. One moment there're just flames, and the next, there's a blond head coughin' and splutterin' through the smoke. My heart leaps, and I reach forward, Lil's name on my lips.

And then I see her face, and I feel like I've been punched for about the fifth time that night. It's Jackie. Goddamn it, it's Jackie. I know I should be glad. I should be overjoyed. But I ain't. I'm despairin', because every second she doesn't come out, it's another second she might not. It's another second she might be gone forever.

I unfreeze. Rushin' over to the girls, I demand, "Where's Lil? Where's the detective, huh, girls?"

"They can't talk," one of the paramedics protests, but I shove him out of the way. Kneelin' in front of Amelia, I take her hand and look into her eyes.

"Tell me where Detective Rush is," I plead with her, as close to beggin' as I've ever gotten. "Do you know where she is?"

Exhausted and afraid, she looks back at me with blue eyes that remind me so much of Lil that I can't help but shiver. I stare into her eyes, searchin' for any sign of comprehension, for any sign of recognition.

"Sir!" It's that paramedic again, tryin' to pull Amelia away. I keep a tight hold on the girl's hand, holdin' her eyes.

"Please," I say, voice breakin'. If I was thinkin' straight, I would be embarrassed. _If._ But I ain't. All I care about is hearin' Lil's okay.

"Inside."

Her voice is so small I almost don't hear it. I lean forward, eyes wide. "Where?"

"At the stairs," Amelia whispers. "Behind with Jackie."

I spring to my feet, breathin', "_Thank you,_" before sprintin' for the window. One of the firefighters grabs for my arm, but I dodge past him and stand at the very threshold of the window, the heat searin' my face. One hand raised to shield my face, I stare hard into the chaos, waitin', prayin', hopin'.

And then—_there._ A flash of blond hair in the golden-red flames. Blond hair and blue blouse.

I bolt in through the window before anyone can stop me. The firefighters let out a yell, but I'm already into the smoke. It chokes me up and makes my eyes water, but I don't have far to go. Lil's lyin' still on the ground not ten feet from the window. She ain't movin', and I stifle the panic. All I think is that I have to get her out.

I grab her under her arms and shake her, shoutin', "Lil! Come on, Lil, come on!"

She doesn't answer. Doggedly, I drag her backwards, toward the window, grittin' my teeth against the heat of the fire. _Come on,_ I pray, eyes waterin' from the burnin' smoke. _Let her be okay._

And then there're arms reachin' in and helpin' me. Two firefighters in full gear surge in toward me and grab Lil and me by the arms. They rush us out of the window into the fresh, smoke-free air beyond. I stagger out, coughin', as they lay Lil on the ground. More paramedics rush over, and I stare at her soot-streaked face with my heart in my throat, hopin' to God she's okay.

"No pulse," the first paramedic reports, and I have to lock my knees to stay standin'. _No pulse. Oh God…_

"Starting CPR," the medic says. He clenches his hands on Lil's chest and starts to pump, countin' under his breath. "One, two, three, four…"

I clench my fists to hide my tremblin'. A medic's tryin' to offer me an oxygen mask, but I push him away. No, I don't need a damn oxygen mask. I need to know that my partner's okay. I need to know…I need to know she ain't gone.

The medic leans down to blow breath into her, and I automatically flinch. Even completely innocent, even in the midst of CPR, someone else's lips on Lil's makes jealousy coil in my gut. I clench my teeth and watch in cold fear, prayin' for Lil to move, for her to just open those beautiful eyes.

"One, two, three, four…" the medic chants as he hammers down on her chest. "…eight, nine, ten, eleven…"

And then she takes a shuddering, breathy gasp, her eyes flyin' open. I let out an involuntary cry and reach for her, relief makin' my knees weak. The medic breaks out into a wide smile, his expression wearily satisfied, and offers her an oxygen mask. She sucks in another lungful of air, her chest heavin'. Her eyes find mine.

"Hey, Lil," I breathe, takin' in her eyes, her expression, her beautiful face. God, how close was I to losin' this?

She manages a weak, weak smile. The medics work quickly over her, callin' out to each other, but all I can see is her. Lilly sooty and dirty and exhausted but alive. Wonderfully, blessedly alive.

And suddenly I can't stop myself. I ain't sure I _want_ to stop myself. Rippin' off her oxygen mask, I lean down and press my lips against hers.

Two weeks. Two weeks since I felt this, her lips on mine. I haven't forgotten a thing.

She's shocked this time, shocked but too weak to stop it. Not that she_ wants _to stop it, I think. Her arms wrappin' 'round my neck and tanglin' in my hair sure ain't signs of resistance. I deepen the kiss, tastin' the soot on her lips, and find that taste of Lil underneath the grime. God, she tastes good.

"Sir!"

It's the damn medics. Reluctantly, I pull away, lettin' them lift her onto a gurney and wheel her to the ambulance. Once she's inside, the medics let me climb in to sit with her. After a moment, I reach out and clench her hand tightly. She doesn't move away.

She looks at me groggily and slowly lifts her oxygen mask. One of the medics protests, but her eyes flash with that Ice Queen glare, and he falters. She turns to me and whispers, so softly I have to lean in, "What the hell was that?"

She's talkin' about the kiss, I can tell. Is she mad? No, she ain't. I think. She looks mostly confused. Hell, I'm confused too. I mean, I just _kissed_ my partner in front of a dozen witnesses for absolutely no reason at all, because that night between us never happened. It's probably the biggest screw-up I've made in years. But…I ain't regrettin' it.

"A kiss," I whisper back, in her ear so the paramedics won't hear. Then, grinnin' slightly as I remember that night, I add, "Chalk it up to the adrenaline, Lil."

She smiles too. And then she laughs, amusement glowin' in her eyes, and I see that she remembers that night just as well as I do. I see that it ain't just somethin' she shut away, never to remember again. It's real. It _happened._

Her laugh turns into a gaspin' cough, and the medics shoot me a glare as they lean forward simultaneously to fix her oxygen mask back into place and to assess her injuries. But Lil holds my eyes, and I know she ain't mad about me for the kiss. She might have even enjoyed it. I ain't gonna get a black eye for it and I sure as hell ain't gonna regret it 'cause hey—we're chalkin' it up to the adrenaline.

Who _knows_ what else I can get away with tonight?

* * *

**Reviews?**


	3. Medicine

Lil looks like she got run over by an eighteen-wheeler. No kiddin'. She's got shadows under her eyes, her nose is red, and she's limpin' around with that bulky cast completely encasin' her left leg. She's dressed simply in a pair of joggin' shorts and a short-sleeved t-shirt. She looks downright awful.

"You're lookin' better," I say anyway, grinnin' at her as she leans in her doorway.

"I look horrible," she answers, her eyes a little cloudy. She manages a small, tired smile and adds, "Thanks anyway. What are you doing here?"

I shrug. "I wanted to check up on my partner. I can't do that?"

Lil shrugs. "I'm fine. You didn't have to come. You could have called."

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," I say, only half-truthfully. I also just wanted to see her. But I'll probably get struck by lightning before I tell her that.

"Well, I'm sick," she says, sniffling. "Can you believe my luck? First I break my leg and nearly die from smoke inhalation and then I come down with a cold. Figures."

I can't help but smile. She just looks so adorable, even if she looks miserable. There probably ain't a thing in the world that can make Lil look anythin' short of gorgeous.

"I brought coffee," I say, holdin' up one of the steamin' cups. But then I frown and pull back slightly. "I don't know if it's good for you, what with you bein' sick and all."

She shoots me a mock-glare and snatches the coffee right outta my hand. "I don't care. I've been drinking soup all day. I need some energy."

I shrug and smile. "Whatever you say, Lil."

She takes a long sip of coffee and sighs contentedly, a little gleam returnin' to her eyes. "You want to come in?"

I pretend like I haven't been waitin' for her to ask. "Sure. Why not." She walks back into her house and I follow, shuttin' the door firmly behind me. With a long sigh, she flops down on her couch, legs crossed, and sips the coffee again. I sit down beside her, not touchin', and eye the blankets. "You sleep here?"

"Last night," she answers with another sigh. "And all morning. I haven't been up to looking at the case files." She gives the files a half-hearted touch, shifting them from their position on the coffee table.

I move them away from her. "That's good. You should be restin'."

"I've been resting for almost a week now, Scotty," she says. "I'm getting bored."

"Then come back," I say. I'm more than ready to see her back across from me in the bullpen. "But not before you're ready," I add firmly.

"Yeah, I will. Tomorrow maybe," she replies, leaning back into the couch. "But I feel awful right now."

I smile. "You look awful. Can I get you anythin'? Medicine?"

She shakes her head tiredly. "Already took some about an hour ago. Apparently I took the wrong one because I'm starting to get kind of drowsy."

"At least you know it's workin'."

She smiles. "There's that."

We sit for a moment in silence. Lil takes another swallow of her coffee, and I do the same to mine. I already drank half of mine on the way to Lil's though, so pretty soon I'm empty-handed and left with nothin' to do but watch her. Which ain't a bad thing at all. God, she's beautiful. I love the way the light plays with her hair and her eyes. I also love the way she's dressed: so casual, so…_not_ Lil. It ain't bad. In fact, it's kinda sexy. Which _is_ a bad thing, seein' as I have enough trouble keepin' my hands to myself when she's in her work clothes. I just about sit on my hands as I wait for her to finish her coffee.

"What are you doing here?" she asks eventually. "It's a Friday night. Don't you have plans?"

I shrug. "Nah. Not really."

"No date?" she teases. "What happened to you, Casanova?"

_You happened to me, gorgeous. _I smile to myself and answer, "Nothin'. Just didn't feel like it."

She sounds carefully neutral. "Oh? That's nice."

_Hah,_ I think. _You jealous, Lil? _She is. She admitted it to me that night at the bar. It makes me grin like a fool rememberin' it.

"No plans for you either, huh?" I say, leanin' my head on my hand, elbow on the back of the couch.

She laughs. "Does it _look_ like I'm in any shape for plans?"

I grin. "You don't look too bad."

"Liar."

I shrug. "Think what you want. But anyway, if you don't have plans, wanna do somethin'?"

"Something?" she repeats, soundin' interested. "Like what?"

I shrug again. "Watch a movie, have some dinner—that sort of thing. In the house, of course."

She looks at me for a moment, her expression unreadable, before noddin' slowly. "Yeah. That sounds nice."

Great. I try not to look too pleased with myself as I collect her now-empty coffee cup and head to the kitchen. "You want somethin' while I'm back here?"

She laughs. "Yeah, make yourself at home, why don't you."

I smile too and throw the coffee cups away before openin' her refrigerator. Which, predictably, is empty. "What did you eat this mornin'?" I call, my brow furrowin'.

"I might have had some soup," she calls back. "Or that might have been yesterday."

I frown. "You're sick. You should be eatin' right."

"I haven't exactly had time or energy to run to the supermarket," she remarked wryly. "Don't worry, I've been eating enough."

"No wonder you're sick," I mutter, closin' the refrigerator. I open her cabinets and manage to rustle up some oatmeal for her and cereal for myself. Bringin' the food back to the couch, I hand her the bowl and drop down next to her.

"I have oatmeal?" she asks in bemusement.

I shrug. "It was behind all those other empty boxes in your pantry. Speakin' of which, you should clean that thing out."

She grins. "I don't have time."

"Make some," I say, "'cause I think I saw some mold growin' in there."

"Ooh, dangerous." She grins as she licks her spoon, and I can't help but stare. God, just watchin' her lick her spoon like that makes my mouth go dry. Does she have _any_ idea how absolutely sexy she is? Obviously not, or she wouldn't be torturin' me like this.

I clear my throat and wrench my gaze away from her with an effort. "So. You got any interestin' movies?"

She shakes her head. "I don't watch movies usually. What with murders to solve and all."

Figures. "Well," I ask, "what d'you like? Horror? Mystery? Drama?"

She laughs, a bit hoarsely. "Don't we get enough of all three of those on the job? I like watching things I don't get everyday."

"Comedy?" I guess. When Lil makes a face, I laugh. Sure, we get comedy in the bullpen all the time. Usually in the form of Miller beatin' the crap outta Vera for donuts, but it's comedy all the same. So that can't be it. I tilt my head and think for another moment before sayin', "So what else is there?"

She ducks her head, lookin' almost embarrassed. "Well…I wouldn't be telling you at all if I wasn't all doped up on medicine, okay?"

Oh, excuses again. I'm startin' to enjoy 'em—a lot. "Sure." Whatever she needs to tell herself.

A slight blush makes her cheeks all rosy, and she mutters quickly, "Romance."

I smile. Of course. So Lil and so _not_ Lil at the same time. Just the perfect blend of the Lil I see in work and the one sittin' in front of me right now. But her answer also sends a pang of sadness through me, knowin' that she has pretty much zero romance in her life when she deserves so much more.

"That ain't anythin' to be embarrassed about," I say, grinnin' at her. "I like 'em too sometimes."

At that, she laughs. "Really. Scotty Valens, watching romance flicks?"

"Only when they're good," I reply, smilin' broadly at her. "So, you got any?"

She nods slowly. "I might. An old one, I think, my mom's. _Ghost._ You ever watch it?"

I remember the movie vaguely, rememberin' that Elisa used to gush about it endlessly. "Yeah, once or twice."

She throws off the blankets and goes over to the box below her TV. "It's probably in here somewhere," she mutters, diggin' through the box's contents. I raise my eyebrows when she pulls out old file after old file.

"You keep the case files?" I ask, bemused.

"Copies," she answers. "I don't know why. I just like to have them around, you know? Mementos, sort of. So I remember those people when no one else will."

I fight the urge to get up and envelop her in a tight hug. She has got to have the biggest heart of anyone I've ever known. God, how can she be so freakin' gorgeous and so _kind_ and _not_ have someone lovin' her to death? And then I smile faintly as I remember she _does_—me. She just doesn't know it yet.

"Aha!" she exclaims, wavin' the dusty movie case at me. "Found it." She pops it in and turns the TV on before comin' back to sit beside me. She slurps her oatmeal as the credits come on, and I can't help but smile at how adorable she looks, sittin' there buried in blankets and slurpin' oatmeal like a little kid. How the hell have I been resistin' a woman like this for five years? I've got better self-control than I thought.

We settle into the movie silently, sittin' on our respective sides of the couch. I hope she can't tell I'm itchin' to pull her over into my arms. I hope she can't tell I'm wantin' to cuddle with her more than I've wanted anythin' in a long, long time. I watch her more than I watch the movie, just tracin' the lines of her face. She's just so beautiful. How is it I never get tired of lookin' at her? Everythin' from her straight nose to her strong jaw that clenches when she's gettin' stubborn to her full, red lips is perfect. And her eyes…

She turns suddenly to look at me, and our eyes catch, and I see—I see she wants to touch me just as bad as I want to touch her. It makes a shiver go through me from head to toe, knowin' Lil wants it just as much as I do. And it breaks down every last bit of self-control I have left.

"C'mere," I say, openin' my arms to her invitingly. "Romantic movies are better shared, don'tcha think?"

She stares at me incredulously (and longingly, I think). "What?"

I give her my cocky smile and say, "Well, why not? You're all doped up on medication, and I'm feelin' all sorry for you. So we'll chalk it up to that."

She looks at me for another long moment. I send her what I hope is a puppy-dog look, and a slow smile spreads across her face.

"We seem to be making a lot of excuses these days," she says, still not movin'.

I shrug and smile charmingly—at least, I hope it's charmin'. "I ain't complainin'. Are you?"

Just as I expect, she shakes her head. "Nah. It's…nice."

Nice as in it's _nice_ that we're actin' like more than partners? Nice as in it's _nice_ that we can be completely open with each other with our little excuses? Hell yeah. I smile. "Yeah, it's nice."

I hold out my arms to her again, and this time, she moves over, pullin' the blanket with her. She sits just barely touchin' me, my arm around her shoulder, but I figure since we're already this far, we might as well go all the way. So I pull her flush with my body, shiverin' a little when I feel her turn toward me, when I feel her breath tickle my neck. She seems a little surprised at first, but I guess she convinces herself pretty quick she's all drugged up 'cause she snuggles closer and puts an arm around my stomach as we stretch out on the couch. I stiffen at her touch, incredulous, but she seems to be chalkin' it up to the medication, so I do too. I mean, it ain't everyday I get to cuddle on the couch with my partner. So I gotta enjoy it while I can.

She's so warm. Now that she's in my arms, I know that any chance of concentratin' on the movie has flown out the window. I'm half sure I'm dreamin', so I just tighten my arms around her, intendin' to enjoy it while I can until either I wake up or Lil comes to her senses and boots me out the door. But the excuse thing's been workin' pretty well for us the past three weeks, so I figure I'll be comfortable for a while yet.

When the movie starts gettin' all romantic, I just barely feel Lil sigh against me, the movement sendin' a vibration through my own chest. She watches them kiss on the screen and sighs again, almost imperceptibly. I resist the intense urge to flip her around in my arms and reenact what's goin' on in the movie, to show her that she ain't gotta be gettin' all wistful over a couple of movie characters when a real-life romance is starin' her right in the face. But I don't. Of course I don't.

Instead, to my immense shock, Lil's the one who turns in my arms and presses her lips against mine. Before my scrambled brain can fully understand what's goin' on, I'm kissin' her back hard, my arms wrapped around her, pressin' her closer to me, breathin' in her scent. It's our third time kissin' but nothin's changed; it's still as breathtakin' as the first time. I forget about my shock and focus instead on how she tastes and how she feels. In a smooth move, I have her pinned underneath me, and her arms are wrapped around my neck, and we ain't showin' any signs of stoppin'. God, she tastes good.

I press deeper toward her, lickin' her lips gently, and she groans against me, which makes _me_ groan. Strugglin' to keep at least some semblance of control, I try to pull back to catch my breath, but her fingers tangle in my hair and pull me closer. I groan again against her lips, unable to believe how gorgeous she is, unable to believe I have my absolutely _stunning_ partner pinned underneath me. She slides her hand from my hair to my neck, then down to my side, trailin' a line of fire as she touches my chest and stomach. Unable to stop myself, I reach for her too, my hand brushin' the hem of her shirt, pushin' it up. My fingers touch the smooth skin of her stomach, and I can't help but whisper her name against her lips, feelin' a swell of love for her.

Abruptly, she pushes back away from me, her eyes snappin' open, wide with alarm. With a supreme effort, I pull back, still hoverin' above her but not touchin'.

"Lil?" I ask, wonderin' in disappointment if she's regrettin' it now. But she'd seemed to enjoy it just as much as I had.

She doesn't meet my eyes, her cheeks all adorably flushed from all the kissin' and touchin'. "Sorry. I…I'm gonna get you all sick too."

No, it ain't that she's worried about. I don't know what she stopped for, but I know it ain't that. So I just look down at her, tryin' to catch her eyes while at the same time tryin' to ignore how amazin' she looks pinned under me.

"Lil?" I try again, hopin' I force the truth outta her. Is it…maybe it's me? Maybe she ain't as desperate for company as I thought she was?

She stubbornly stares past me at the ceiling. "Sorry. I don't want you getting sick too."

_Bull._ I know she's lyin'. But _why?_ We got our excuses—she's on meds, I'm feelin' all sorry for her—so why lie? Why need to?

"You're on drugs," I say gently, starin' at her averted eyes to avoid starin' at her half-parted lips. "You can say anythin', Lil, and I ain't gonna hold it against you."

She smiles faintly, almost bitterly. "Excuses. We've been making a lot of them lately, haven't we?"

I nod slowly. "Yeah, we have. You regrettin' it?"

She shakes her head. "No. And that's the problem."

I pull back from her a little further, confused. "I don't get it._ What's _the problem?"

"You are," she whispers, soundin' miserable.

I am? _I_ am? I pull back from her sharply, sittin' up. "What do you mean, Lil?"

My voice betrays my hurt. I wince as Lil instantly gets this guilty look in her eyes, and she sneaks a glance at me. Our eyes meet for half a second before hers dart away again, and a sigh ripples through her.

"You're the problem," she repeats, soundin' not accusin' but kinda sad and surprised all at once. I wait for her to elaborate, but it seems like she's said all she will on that topic. I move off her and sit beside her feet, makin' sure not to touch her. We're both breathin' a bit heavily into the silence, still partially caught up in the moment. Starin' at the wall, I try to muddle out what the hell Lil means by callin' me the problem. Does she mean I ain't what she wants? Does she mean I'm…forcin' her or somethin'? Dear God, I ain't _forcin'_ her, am I? She doesn't think I'm _assaultin'_ her, does she? I sneak a worried glance at her, but she doesn't seem to be scared or angry. Just lost in her own thoughts, far away.

We both seem to realize at the same time that the movie's still runnin'. It gives us both a reason to avoid talkin' for the moment, so we turn in relief toward the TV, studiously avertin' our eyes. We stare at the screen, but I ain't really seein' the movie and I'm sure Lil ain't either. _What does she mean, I'm the problem?_

The doorbell rings. Both of us jerk at the sound, and both of us start up at the same time, mutterin', "I'll get it." But Lil still looks like crap and she ain't in any shape to walk, what with that cast around her leg. So she sits back down silently, and I go for the door.

I open to the door to find a man in a business suit, a bouquet of flowers springin' from his hands. I take one look at him and figure he's not here to sell anythin'; he's here 'cause he knows Lil. And those flowers sure ain't the flowers of friends.

He looks surprised to see me. His brow furrows as he frowns, and he says, a bit sharply, "Who're you?"

"Scotty Valens," I say slowly, leanin' on the door. Who is this guy? And what the hell is he doin' on Lil's doorsteps with _flowers?_

"Who is it?" Lil calls from in the house. I don't answer her 'cause I honestly don't know.

The man's face twists in sudden bitterness. "You her new boyfriend then?"

And it hits me: this guy's Trevor. Explains the flowers, the jealousy runnin' across his face, everythin'. He must be comin' back to make his peace with Lil. Or to beg her to come back to him.

Or maybe she's already come back to him. The thought hits me like a punch, and what she said suddenly makes sense. Of course. She's already back with him, so now I'm the third wheel. I'm a _problem_. We might've had a hot moment on the couch, but she's feelin' guilty about it 'cause of Trevor. So she pushed me away.

I feel hurt. Intensely hurt. _God_, was she just playin' with me? This whole time, all the fun with the excuses, all those kisses and moments, has she just been playin' me? Has none of this been _real?_

"No," I say flatly, clenchin' my fist. "I'm her partner from work. I just wanted to come by to check up on her because she hasn't been back to the station in a few days." I can almost feel Lil's confusion behind me. "I was just about to leave."

His entire face lightens up, and his hand clenches around the bouquet. "I got amends to make," he says, smilin' as he holds up the flowers. "Lil's my girlfriend and all."

"Yeah," I say, forcin' a smile too. "Good luck with that." Good luck with wooin' back the woman I've been in love with since the second I laid eyes on her. I hope I sound sincere.

He clears his throat. "So…uh, could you let her know I'm here?"

I nod mechanically, still smilin' that damn fake smile. "Yeah. Sure. Wait here a second."

Duckin' back inside, I shut the door. I can feel Lil's gaze borin' in the back of my neck, but I ignore it pointedly. Instead, I slip on my coat, my badge, and my gun from where I left them on her hallway table. Tuckin' my gun securely at my hip, I finally look up at her.

She's lookin' at me with that confused expression of hers, the one she gets when she can't figure somethin' out. "Who was it?" she asks again.

"Your boyfriend," I say, prayin' I don't sound bitter. "He wants to talk to you, so I'm gonna head off now."

"Boyfriend?" she repeats, soundin' perfectly clueless. "Who?"

Is she a good actress or what? Usually, she can't lie worth crap outside her role as detective, but I almost believe her right then. I almost believe that she's just as confused by Trevor turnin' up as I am. _Almost._

I resist the urge to snap _Who else?_ and instead just answer, "Trevor. See you at work, Lil."

And before she can answer, I'm out the door, past Trevor, and into the street. My fists clench, I resist the urge to punch somethin' and instead walk off the steam in quick, tight strides. Damn it. _Damn it._ And just when I think this is goin' somewhere, that Lil and I might actually _be_ somethin'…

But I know, deep down, that Lil and I will never be an _us._ These three weeks, as amazin' as they've been, have been built on excuses. First the drink, then the adrenaline, and today Lil's medicine. We made excuses, and we got away from ourselves. We kissed and pretended and maybe even loved, but none of it was true. None of it was _real._

I sigh heavily, an ache in my chest. God, I ain't supposed to be feelin' this way. I ain't supposed to be in love with my partner. I ain't supposed to be wishin' her boyfriend would just get hit by a car already.

_No more excuses,_ I swear to myself. No more foolin' around with Lil, pretendin' we could actually be somethin'. No more of this _more than partners_ thing. Just strictly professional. Just Detectives Rush and Valens.

I shut up my feelings. Lilly Rush ain't gonna hurt me anymore. She ain't ever gonna touch me again.


	4. Confusion

**No excuses in this one, really. **

**Disclaimer: Cold Case is not mine...**

* * *

When the door closes behind Scotty, I flinch. It isn't as if he slammed the door, but he might as well have. I feel his fury all the same.

_What the hell?_

One moment he's just sitting on the edge of my couch—confused as hell, probably, because I pushed him away—and the next, he's snarling through his teeth at me, his voice steely. I knew he'd be mad—I knew he'd been _hurt_ because I told him he was the problem—but I hadn't figured on him being _furious._ What for?

Slowly, slowly, I unfreeze. I remember suddenly that Trevor is still standing outside in the cold, and I automatically start up, heading to open the door and apologize for making him wait. Halfway up, I stop and wonder why Trevor's here in the first place. He moved out three weeks ago. We haven't spoken since. He isn't…he isn't back to make amends, is he? For a moment, I freeze at the thought. Of course. How typical. A man leaves me, then comes back wanting to pick up exactly where we left off. He wants to jump back into my life like he can leave and return whenever he feels like it, like I'll still be here waiting. Anger rushes through me instantly at the thought, and I sit back down.

The door opens slowly, hesitantly. I take a deep breath, then another.

"Lil?"

"Don't call me that," I say automatically, my voice biting. He always likes calling me _Lil_, says he thinks it's cute, but I don't like the way it rolls off his tongue. I don't like the way it only sounds right coming off of someone else's lips, with a trace of Spanish accent.

I can almost picture his sheepish grin. "Sorry, sorry, I forgot. Hey, Lilly."

I swallow. "What are you doing here, Trevor?" I ask evenly, still staring straight at the TV. The movie's still playing, and the two main characters are kissing again. I shiver involuntarily as I remember Scotty's lips on mine. Instantly, I shove the thought away and cross my arms, determinedly staring away from the screen.

"I…" He hesitates. "How are you?"

"Sick," I reply flatly. "And tired."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Yes, I bet he is. For more than my broken leg.

"Why are you here?" I repeat, bringing my knees up and folding my arms around them. I still don't turn to look at him.

He walks slowly around the couch until he can look me in the eye. I catch sight of the flowers and narrow my eyes. He _has_ come to make amends, hasn't he? He wants another chance, like all the others. I can't help the scowl that spreads across my face, and I glare at him with all the ice I can muster.

He flinches and swallows. "Look, Lil…Lilly. That night…I was mad. I wasn't thinking straight, really. It's just—it was the third time you'd missed our dinner, and I felt neglected, that's all. I was stupid that night, and I regret it every day. Can you…_will_ you give us another chance?"

No. Hell no. _He_ walked out on _me._ He doesn't _deserve_ a second chance. None of my ex-boyfriends ever do.

But I don't say it. Even though every instinct is demanding that I leap up and whack him across the face, I don't. There's that one part of me that desperately wants to take him back, the part that just wants to be loved, no matter what. No matter if I deserve more. _Better._ There's that part that thinks, _You aren't getting a man any better, Rush, so you'd better chin up and keep what you got._

He clears his throat nervously and thrusts the flowers at me in a sudden movement. "Flowers," he says unnecessarily. "They're for you."

Slowly, I take them without smiling, breathing in the scent of lilies. How poetic. Lilies also happen to be one of my least favorite flowers, but no one ever asks. They just assume that I _must_ like flowers I'm named after, and I don't bother to correct them. Why should I? Do they even care?

I sigh. "Thank you."

His face lightens, and he tries a smile. I realize belatedly that by taking the flowers and by thanking him, I've encouraged him. Damn it.

"Does that mean…?" he ventures, stepping in closer.

I rise off the couch and step back away from him, flowers held between us almost like a shield. "I don't think that's a good idea, Trevor."

He pauses, frowning. "Why not?"

"Why not?" I echo, surprised. "Don't you remember why you left me in the first place?"

He winces. "Of course I do."

"Then what's changed?"

He sighs heavily and sits down beside me. Almost subconsciously, I shift away from him, toward the other end of the couch. I stop, though, when I realize that I'm inching toward the spot where Scotty held me in his arms not even an hour ago. I remember how it felt and shiver, half in desire and half in sudden loneliness. I look at Trevor and resist the intense urge to have him hold me, to be _loved. _But I don't move. Because if there's one thing I've learned in the past three weeks, it's that Scotty's touch is _different._ Deeper, somehow. Something I've never felt before. So I sit still and wait.

"I told you," he says at last, looking at his hands. "I was mad. I was stupid. I didn't mean what I said. I'm sorry."

"You didn't mean that a guy has got to be plain stupid to put up with my working hours?" I say harshly, refusing to look at him.

He swallows. "That was wrong of me to say."

"What's to stop you from saying it next time?" I ask. "Next time my job gets in the way of our dates?"

He's silent for a moment. _Good_, I think angrily. _Now just leave._ But then he smiles roguishly at me and says, "Maybe I'm that stupid guy."

It's my turn to swallow hard. He's putting himself out there for me. For _me_. He's brought me flowers, he's apologized, he's asked for a second chance. He's genuinely sincere, and he's admitted his mistakes. He's one of the best men I've ever known.

I open my mouth, intending to cave, but what comes out is completely unexpected.

"My job isn't stupid," I say, my voice sharp. "It's important, and it's the one thing I love in my life. So will you respect it?"

"Of course I'll put up with it," he says, sounding confused.

I shake my head. "Not _put up with it._ Will you _respect_ it? Will you respect that I do what I have to, that it isn't a burden to me? That it's something I have to do and that nothing will ever change that?"

He frowns. "If you want me to, I will, Lilly. But will you respect our relationship too? Will you consider it something as important as your job? I can't be in this if you don't commit, Lilly. I want to know you're in this."

I hesitate. He doesn't understand. He doesn't understand that when I'm in a relationship, I'm in as far as I can possibly be. He doesn't understand that no matter what, there will always be a part of me that isn't in it, that there will always be a part that values the job before anything else. That _I _will always value the job above a relationship. It's who I am.

He senses my reluctance, and his eyes harden. "That's the point, Lilly. You have to choose: the job or me. It's that simple."

Except it isn't, and he knows it. It isn't _simple_ at all. It's choosing between something I love, something that has never failed me, and the chance of something more. Can I risk losing the job to gain what I've been missing all my life? _Will_ I risk it?

I sigh heavily, torn. He sees it and stands.

"You can't choose," he guesses, disappointment clear in his tone, "which means the job will always be more important than I am."

He's leaving? Just like that? Desperation swamps me, desperation at the prospect of being left. Again. I want suddenly to promise him that I'll put him first, to swear that the job won't interfere anymore. But I can't get the words out, so I blurt instead, "Wait!"

He stops at the edge of the couch, his back to me. I plead quickly, "Give me some time. Just time to think."

He doesn't speak for a long moment, and for that moment, I hold my breath. Hoping he'll give me time. Praying this won't be another time a man turns his back on me.

Finally, he says, "Fine, Lilly. Some time."

He opens the door and leaves, shutting the door behind him with almost the same finality Scotty did. I wonder how the hell he came here to beg me to take him back and ended up making me almost beg _him._ When have I become so desperate for company?

I sigh heavily and bury my head into the pillows, my headache suddenly returning twofold. I want to get up to hunt down some aspirin, but I don't have the energy anymore. Instead, I just pull up the covers and close my eyes, like all my problems will disappear if only I can't see them.

* * *

I'm back at work on Monday. It's difficult enough to get into a car, let alone drive it, so I take a cab to the precinct. Usually, I'd call Scotty for a ride, but since the incident on Friday, I'm hesitant to call him. Is he still angry at me? Will things be unbearably awkward? I hope not. How else are we supposed to function as partners?

I take the elevator up the bullpen and limp out on my crutch, already in a pretty crappy mood. I haven't had a chance to take a good look at the case files, and my head aches like hell. The aspirin doesn't seem to be helping, and my leg itches. Badly. I try to ignore it all as I stick my gun in my locker and make my way into the bullpen.

"Look who's back!" Kat calls, raising an eyebrow as she spots me. "You look like hell, Lil."

"Feel like it too," I grumble, limping to my desk. I slap the case files down on my desk and can't help but glance over to the desk across from mine. "Where's Scotty?"

Kat shrugs. "Not here yet. And Vera's piggin' out in the break room, in case you wanted to know."

I smile. Well. Things haven't changed at all. Not that I'd expected them to, but it's nice to have some normalcy. That's what the job's for.

"So," I say, easing into my chair, "what's up with the case?"

Kat sighs. "Bunch of dead ends, that's what. Jefferies went out early to talk to some family, but we ain't too hopeful. It's one of those cases that make you frustrated as hell."

Great. Just the _perfect_ case to come back on. As if I can handle any more stress in my life right now. With a long sigh, I flip open the first file and try to concentrate.

I'm halfway through the third page of the report when Scotty drops his coat onto his chair and sits down heavily across from me. I glance up at him furtively, trying to gauge his mood, and am surprised to find a smile on his face.

"Hey, Lil," he says cheerfully. "How you feelin'?"

"Better," I say in confusion. I expected him to at least give me the cold shoulder, not pretend as if nothing happened. I lean back in my chair and say slowly, "What's up?"

He shrugs. "Nothin'. Hell of a case though, huh?"

I shake my head. "I don't know. Haven't had time to read through it." Or the energy.

He nods understandingly. "Yeah, it's okay. Vera and I have it covered. Take your time."

What the _hell_ is going on? Scotty's _never_ this nice, even to me. _Especially_ if he's angry at someone. I stare at him in confusion.

He catches my expression and laughs. "What?"

"What's up with you?" I ask, forcing a smile. "You're acting all smiley today."

He shrugs nonchalantly. "Had a good weekend, that's all."

Good weekend. Which, knowing him, means he found a girl and made the most of it. I'm shocked at the instant, intense rush of jealousy that swamps me. God, why do I feel so _hurt?_

"Oh," I say stiffly, looking back down at the file. "Good for you, Valens."

He doesn't miss the sharp edge to my tone; he's a detective, after all. "You okay, Lil?" he asks, brow furrowing as he studies me.

"Yeah," I say, waving my hand dismissively at him. "I'm fine." He looks unconvinced, so I sigh and add, "It's just a headache, that's all."

He frowns and says, "You take medicine yet?"

I smile wryly. "Yeah, this morning. Thanks, Nurse Valens."

He smiles too and reaches for the files on his desk. "Who else is gonna look after you, huh?" And then his smile fades abruptly, his eyes hardening, and he says, "Oh, right. Trevor."

I have never seen anyone's mood take a one-eighty so quickly. I stare at him for a moment before saying slowly, "Trevor and I aren't back together."

He snorts and doesn't look at me. Staring resolutely at the file in front of him, he says, "You don't have to lie to me, Lil. I'm your partner, not your dad or somethin'. I don't care who you're seein'."

But something in his voice tells me he does. He _does_ care. He isn't good at hiding what he feels—since when has anyone _ever_ been fooled by Scotty's act?—but sometimes he can be a little hard to read. I can't tell exactly _what_ it is in his voice, but I can tell he's lying.

Why?

I shake my head with a sigh. "I'm telling the truth, Scotty. I'm not seeing him."

A look of hurt flashes across his face, and I wonder what the hell that's for. And then he clears it up by saying, "All right. I get that you don't trust me enough to tell me the truth, Lil. I get it."

And he drops his eyes to the files, his expression stony.

I pretty much want to pull out my gun and shoot him. I lie to him all the time—something I'm not proud to admit—and he swallows it, usually. And this one time I tell him the truth, he doesn't believe me? Unbelievable. Un_believable._

I'm not in the mood to argue with him anymore, so I focus on the file on my desk. For a long moment, I study the photo of the victim, a fourteen-year-old girl with flowing brown locks and a smile that looks like it could light up the whole room. Her face is so full of life that it makes me ache. It's these cases that I hate the most, the cases of victims who were truly innocent, victims who don't deserve the injustice done against them. It's these cases that push me the hardest, hit me the hardest. It's a terrible case for me to come back to.

I skip over the murder photos and jump straight to the autopsy report. I read about how Lorraine was stabbed six times, about how she died a slow, agonizing death in her kitchen, alone and most likely terrified. It makes me shudder to think of it. Dying painfully is bad enough, but dying alone is the worst thing I can imagine. I know because I've almost gone through it, that night in the office facing off Ed Martenson, hearing his harsh voice in my ears, watching him curl his finger around that trigger…

I shake the thoughts away, swallowing hard. _Focus, Rush._

I spend the rest of the morning catching up on the case. Some time before noon, Kat and Vera cut out to find a suspect, and Jefferies brings some pizza for those of us still at the precinct. I help myself to some pieces and when Scotty and Jefferies aren't looking, I pop some aspirin, knowing if either of them catch me showing any sign of fatigue, they'll be sending me straight home. Orders from Boss, apparently. I smile through my headache and keep looking over the details of the case.

A commotion pulls my attention away from the files. Kat and Vera march into the bullpen, leading a tall, angry man in handcuffs. He snarls curses left and right and tries to lash out at Vera, who catches him by the shoulder and slams him against the wall.

Scotty and Jefferies leap up to help restrain the guy, and I turn in my chair, feeling helpless as I reach awkwardly for my crutches. By the time I maneuver myself to my feet, Scotty and Vera are already dragging the man toward the interview rooms. Breathing hard, Kat makes her way over to me, her expression dark.

"Who's that?" I ask, leaning on my crutches.

"Casey Thomas," she answers sourly. "Witness saw him sellin' crack on the same corner Lorraine was seen on the day she died. Nabbed him on the same corner just now."

"Foul temper," I remark, watching Scotty and Vera wrestle him down the hallway.

Kat snorts. "Understatement of the century. You're lucky you didn't have to spend thirty minutes cooped up in a car with him."

She sits back down at her desk, still clearly in a bad mood, and I sit too, since I can't do anything else. I pick up my pen and read over some details for the umpteenth time, making some notes in the margins of the pages. Casey Thomas…He didn't come up in the original investigation, and drugs never came up before. I wonder what the connection is.

"Lil!"

I glance up to find Boss striding over, followed by Scotty and Jefferies. Boss looks grim, Scotty stony again, and Jefferies worried. Awkwardly, I stand with the crutches and send them a questioning look.

"Thomas is asking for you," Boss explains with a sigh, his voice bleak. "I think he's the killer, but he won't talk to anyone but you."

"Why?" I ask, confused.

Boss shakes his head. "I don't know. He just said he wanted you only."

I know it would be stupid for me to go in and face a hostile suspect with crutches and probably no chance at self defense. I know no one would blame me if I refused to go. But I don't refuse. I'm Lilly Rush. I'm stronger than this, stronger than a broken leg and a pounding headache. I can deal with it.

So I nod calmly and say, "Which room is he in?"

"Wait!" Scotty breaks in incredulously, holding up a hand. "You ain't lettin' her in there, Boss? That's crazy!"

Boss sighs and nods. "I agree with you, Scotty. But there's a chance we're letting a killer slip if we don't let Lil go in."

"You ain't considerin' it?" Scotty demands, his expression thunderstruck. "You ain't really gonna put her in danger like that? She's got a _broken leg_, for God's sake!"

"What if he lawyers up and gets away with it?" I retort, my own temper rising. "What if I can get a confession out of him?"

"And I can't?" Scotty snaps back, his eyes flashing. "Give me ten minutes, Boss, and I'll beat a confession outta him."

"But that's not how we do it," Boss says sternly.

Scotty opens his mouth angrily, and I see the words in his eyes. _Screw the rules,_ he's going to say, followed by some probably un-cop-like conduct. All because of me, because he thinks I can't handle myself.

"I'll be fine," I say, annoyed, picking up the files with my free hand. "I'm not completely defenseless. Which room, Boss?"

Scotty snatches the files from my hands. "There's no _way_ Lil's goin' in there. No _way._"

"I gotta agree with Scotty on this one," Jefferies says slowly. "Lil is in no condition to face-off with some jackass with a mouth too big for his own good. She just got back."

They're looking out for me. I know it. I even appreciate it, on some level. But most of me hates being looked after like a damsel in distress, like I'm incapable of taking care of myself and making my own decisions.

"Let me in there," I snap, clenching my crutches tightly. "If this is Lorraine's killer, I don't care if it's dangerous."

Boss nods reluctantly. "I don't like it, but we'll do the best we can to keep you safe while you're in there."

"_Boss!"_ Scotty exclaims in disbelief and outrage. "You can't just put Lil in danger like that! She ain't even capable of walkin' without crutches, and you want to stick her in a room with a suspected _killer_?"

"I'm going," I say coldly, glaring at him. He meets my eyes, matching my glower, and for a long moment, we just stare at each other tensely, waiting for the other to break. His eyes are full of the familiar fury, but it's laced with some unfamiliar emotion too. I don't try to figure him out, just focus instead on staring him down. I know I've got a pretty good icy glare, so I'm not surprised when Scotty eventually drops his eyes. But his expression doesn't lose any of its anger.

"Fine," he snarls through clenched teeth. "But I wanna be in there with her."

I open my mouth to protest, but Boss says, "That's just what I was going to suggest. Good."

I don't protest because one, I know that it makes perfect sense for someone to be in the room with me, and two, because oddly enough (or maybe not so oddly), I feel comforted having Scotty with me. I don't trust anyone else nearly as much as I trust my own partner, so if anyone's got to be in there with me, it'd better be him.

Silently, on edge, we walk together to the interview rooms. Boss stops outside Interview B and nods at the door. He and Jefferies slip into Observation, and I take a breath before throwing open the door, Scotty on my heels.

"Casey Thomas," I say as I enter, taking on the detective tone. "Convicted of drug possession and assault." I've done some light reading of his file, and he certainly looks like a guy capable of stabbing a girl to death. He's got muscular forearms, a menacing face, and eyes that look that they'd be perfectly fine with committing murder. He's the kind of guy I peg as a killer, and my gut says he's the one.

He looks up as I enter, and his eyes darken even as he smiles widely. It's all teeth, with a threatening edge to it that makes me want to automatically reach for my gun.

"Lilly Rush," he drawls, leaning back in his chair. "Detective of the Philly PD, Homicide. Cold cases, right?"

I meet his gaze evenly, keeping my face impassive. "And how do you know all that, Casey?"

His smile widens. "2005. You arrested my cousin for the murder of his boss."

"Well, maybe it runs in the family," I say, smiling coldly as I pull back the chair across from him. I glance at Scotty, and he hands me the files, which I flip open on the table. "Lorraine Jackson, age fourteen. You remember her?"

He looks at the photo and shrugs. "Never seen her before. And I ain't interested in it either. It's you I want to talk about."

I smile coldly. "Well, this is a homicide investigation, not a tête-à-tête. _I _ask the questions. You get the easy part, Casey. You just tell me what I want to know. Did you kill Lorraine Jackson?"

He doesn't look down at the photo again. Instead, he just leans back in his chair and gazes at me, with a sardonic grin spread wide across his face.

"You know I did my research on you, Detective?" he asks conversationally. "After you arrested Kelvin, I did my research. Quite an impressive career you got. Pretty cool how you catch murderers."

"Like you?" I ask, picking up the photo of Lorraine. "Should I add you to the list, Casey?"

He laughs. "I didn't kill the girl. You got nothing on me there. But I _do_ want a little talk with you, Detective. Didn't think I'd ever get it, but the world sure works in strange ways. Here I am, sitting across from you. Isn't that funny?"

I'm getting nowhere. I'm not so doped up on aspirin and pain medication that I can't tell that. This guy's one of the guys you have to listen to first, get him talking. Then, when he least expects it, I can seize the conversation and turn it in the direction I want. So I lay the photo of the dead girl down and look at him.

"So what do you want to talk about?" I ask evenly.

"You _do_ know Kelvin's innocent, right?"

"I know I don't make arrests without confessions," I reply calmly. "Which means Kelvin must have confessed."

"He's stupid. He doesn't know what he's saying."

"Sounded pretty sure to me," I say, pretending I remember which case he's talking about. "Didn't take much convincing either."

He smiles sardonically. "That what you're gonna do to me too, Detective? _Convince_ me?"

"If you got something to confess," I answer. "Do you?"

He shakes his head, never breaking eye contact. "I've never seen that girl before in my life." Before I can answer, he leans forward quickly, propping his elbows on the table. "You know, you're a pretty woman, Detective."

Behind me, I hear Scotty's jaw pop almost inaudibly. Refusing to be intimidated, I lean forward too, staring him straight in the eyes. "You're looking pretty good too," I say, raising an eyebrow. When he opens his mouth to reply, a smug look in his eyes, I lean back and add frostily, "Pretty good for murder."

His smile loses some of its pretended friendliness. "I told you already, Detective, I didn't kill the girl."

"You're gonna have to give me something better than that," I say, unconvinced. "Like, say, an alibi?"

His eyes narrow. He seems to be starting to get that no matter what he says to me, I'll lead him back to the murder until he answers my questions. Good. We're getting somewhere.

"I don't even know what the hell happened," he growls. "How the hell am I supposed to come up with an alibi?"

"Let me help you," I say, scanning one of the papers of the file. "Where were you on October 10, 2007?"

"Yeah, 'cause I can just remember that day on the top of my head," he says caustically. "I have no fucking idea."

Starting to get hostile, is he? Good, I'm getting to him.

"Witness puts you on the corner of Wilma and Gates that morning," I tell him, flipping a photo of the street corner around so he can see it. "That's two blocks away from where the girl was killed. She was on that street corner too, the day she died. You remember that?"

He shrugs. "Never been there."

"It isn't good to lie to me," I say evenly, meeting his eyes. "If you didn't hear me the first time, we have _witnesses_. So let's try that again. You remember selling drugs on this street corner?"

"No, I don't fucking remember, _Detective_," he sneers. "This how you caught Kelvin too? Accusing the wrong people?"

I stare at him, unruffled. "Trial and error, Casey. Now you'd better remember, and soon, or else you're gonna sit here until you _do_ remember. I got all day."

"I never been there!" he snaps, anger flaring in his eyes.

"Really." I slide a police report across to him. "'Cause you were arrested there in 2003 for possession, and records say you used a pay phone on that street the day Lorraine was murdered. I told you not to lie to me, Casey."

He glares mutinously at me. "So? What are you gonna do about it?"

"I'm gonna _convince_ you," I say easily, holding up Lorraine's photo again. "Now let's start again. What happened that day, Casey?"

* * *

Damn, she's good. I've been Lil's partner for years, and I never get over how amazin' she is in the interview room. She's got natural talent for weaselin' out answers from people, gettin' to their weaknesses. Like I said before, she's a crap liar in real life, but as a detective sittin' across from a suspect, she's a damn chameleon. I've seen her get all soft and sympathetic, comforting but firm, and angry and in-your-face. She can be anythin' she wants to be in the interview rooms, and she's incredible at it. Even with a broken leg and what looks like a pretty bad headache, she's the best.

I listen in admiration as she leads Casey Thomas back to the case, even after he tries to set her off by talkin' about his cousin. She doesn't get flustered when he gets angry, and she doesn't even bat an eye when he calls her pretty. Seein' a man like him givin' Lil a once-over gets _me_ worked up, though. I clench my jaw hard, hard enough to make it pop. But Lil doesn't get thrown off, 'course not. She just rolls with it, somehow pullin' it back to the case.

Standin' close behind her chair, I watch Casey Thomas closely. He's got some strength in that body and a temper too. I watch anxiously as Lil riles him up, wonderin' how much it'll take for him to break, how far Lil can push him 'til he snaps. Afraid Lil will get hurt if she pushes too far.

I'm watchin' very closely, but when it happens, I almost miss it. One moment Casey Thomas is fumin' in his seat, lookin' tense but not too threatenin', and the next, he's lungin' across the table. I see Lil reach reflexively for her gun, but it's in the lockers. Of course it's in the lockers, mine too. Damn it, damn it, _damn it_. I reach out automatically and grab for Lil, wantin' both to pull her away and shield her from the suspect. She's faster than both of us, though, and she ducks as Casey lunges. He slides across the table empty-handed, and she staggers to her feet, stumblin' a little with her cast. I reach for her, her name on my lips, but she ain't panicked at all. She's damn calm for a person who's under attack and is practically cripple. When Casey Thomas leaps for her again, I manage to grab his arm and yank him back, away from Lil. He turns in fury, his fist swingin', but misses. I hear the door of Observation slam open as Boss, Jefferies, and Vera rush to the rescue.

But it turns out, as usual, that Lil ain't in need of rescuin' at all. When Casey whips around toward her again, she whacks him across the face with her crutch. Her _crutch_, of all things. The metal makes a resoundin' crack as it hits the side of his head, and he crumples instantly, his eyes rollin' back in his head. As he lies there in a heap on the ground, we all just stare in silence for a long moment, our brains strugglin' to catch up and process what just happened. My eyes flick automatically over to Lil, lookin' her up and down to make sure she's unhurt. She's breathin' hard, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed with adrenaline, but she seems fine. Boss and the others stand crowded in the doorway, eyes shootin' from Lil to Thomas back to Lil.

And then Lil reaches for her handcuffs at her hip, and we all unfreeze together. Boss and Jefferies haul Thomas up from the ground and take the handcuffs from Lil, slappin' them on Thomas's wrists. I go straight to her, my heart still poundin' a little, and look her up and down.

"You okay, Lil?" I ask, my voice sharp. I'm angry, at Casey Thomas for darin' to attack my partner, and at Lil for puttin' herself in danger in the first place. But mostly I'm angry at myself, angry that I couldn't protect her. Angry that she had to go protect herself.

She nods. "I'm fine. He didn't touch me."

Lookin' back at Thomas, I clench my fist. "Sorry, Lil." It comes out a mutter through gritted teeth.

I can feel her surprise. "For what?"

"I couldn't…get to him fast enough. He shoulda never gotten that far in the first place." Damn it, why is Lil always takin' care of stuff herself? Why can't I be the one to take care of her for once, so she learns she ain't gotta do everythin' by herself?

She laughs shortly. "Isn't your fault, Scotty. I'm okay, anyway. It's over."

No, it ain't okay. Boss looks over at me, catches my eyes, and nods once. He knows exactly what I'm feelin'; I imagine he feels a little bit of it himself, for lettin' Lil get this close so soon after she came back. We exchange a tight nod, and I move to help Lil with her crutches. She shakes off my helpin' hand, so I just trail behind her as she leaves Interview B. Slowly, she makes her way back to the bullpen, grimacin' a little. She turns her head away, but I notice anyway.

"You okay?" I ask her, instantly concerned.

She hesitates for a moment, and knowin' her, she's decidin' whether to feed me a lie or go with the truth—a half-truth anyway. After a moment, she answers, "Yeah, I'm fine. A little headache, that's all."

Well, she's tellin' the truth about the headache, I can tell. "You took aspirin?" I ask. "You want me to run and get somethin'?

She shakes her head tiredly. "I'm fine. I already took some medicine earlier."

I want to ask her when and how many she took and if she's gotten enough sleep, but I hold myself back. Why do I care so much anyway? I ain't Lil's father, or brother, or boyfriend. I'm her _partner._ It ain't my job to be worried about her like this.

I sigh inaudibly, makin' sure she doesn't hear me. The weekend had been great. I went out, got drunk, found a pretty girl to warm my bed, and forgot all about excuses and Lil. I forgot I had feelings for her, and I came to work this mornin' swearin' to myself I'd keep forgettin'. But it's a hell of a lot harder than I thought it'd be. One look at her and my defenses are already crackin', and rememberin' Trevor makes me jealous as hell. This whole gettin' over Lil thing ain't goin' so well.

_Relax, Valens. It's only been two days. _

Two days. Right. I ain't expectin' to get over her in two days. It'll take weeks. Months. And at the end of it all, I'll be free of Lil, free to watch her date any soul on earth without gettin' all twisted up with jealousy.

I hope.

We get back to the desks, where Miller raises an eyebrow questioningly. I shake my head, and she frowns; the scowl on my face must be enough to show her how badly it went. She looks at Lil, then back at me, and I nod. She gives me a look that says _Lil okay?_ and I nod again. When has Lil _not_ been okay?

We sit back down at our desks, and Lil groans. I look at her, resist the urge to ask what's wrong, and instead just send her a questioning glance.

"Forgot my files in the interview room," she explains, startin' up from her chair again.

"I got it," I say, risin' up much more quickly than she does. Before she can protest, I'm already headin' back toward the interview rooms, way ahead of her. Boss and Vera are havin' a go at Casey Thomas usin' Lil's files, so I duck into Observation and borrow Jefferies' files instead. Folders in hand, I head back to the bullpen.

And stop short when I spot a familiar redhead standin' next to Lil's desk, and my heart skips a beat.

_She ain't here for anythin'_, I think to myself. _She's here on business._

But somehow I know she ain't. Slowly, apprehensively, I approach the two of them, gettin' close enough to hear what they're talkin' about.

"Have you seen Scotty?" Alex asks almost pleasantly—or as pleasantly as she can get—, her back to me. "We're supposed to go for lunch."

Lil stiffens. She looks shocked and almost hurt for a half-second before the Ice Queen mask slips on, and she says evenly, "He went to get some files. He'll be back in a second."

Damn it. I want to move on from Lil, yes, but I sure as _hell_ don't want my girl prancin' around in front of Lil like I'm tryin' to rub it in her face. I remember what Lil said that night over three weeks ago about bein' jealous about Alex and wince; here I am, steppin' out with her again, throwin' it in Lil's face. I _know_ she'll be hurt by this, and I curse Alex for comin' in like this.

I hurry up behind Alex. "Hey, what're you doin' here?"

"Waiting to take you to lunch," she says, turnin' with a sly smile. "You ready?"

"Can I talk to you?" I say tersely, pullin' her to the side, away from Lil. When I'm sure Lil's outta earshot, I demand lowly, "What the hell, Alex? What part of a _secret relationship_ do you not understand?"

She looks surprised. "Valens,_ you_ told _me_ yesterday that you were fine with us being an open and known couple. You _suggested_ it."

I did? God, I must've been drunk outta my mind. What was I _thinkin'?_

And then I remember I'm supposed to be gettin' over Lil. I ain't supposed to be carin' about what she thinks. It's _my_ love life. It ain't anythin' she's supposed to be carin' about either.

So I force a smile and turn around again. Slidin' the files onto Lil's desk, I tell her, "Here, borrow Jefferies' files. They're usin' yours in the interview rooms. I'm gonna cut out early today, okay?"

She locks eyes with mine, and for an instant there, I see behind the walls, straight to her core. She ain't unaffected by this. She ain't all friendly and indifferent to it. She's hurt. She's jealous. She's angry.

And I feel like the biggest bastard in the world for makin' her feel that way. Part of me wants to scream at her. Part of me wants to demand why the _hell_ she started up with Trevor again if she gets so jealous. Part of me wants to know why the hell we ain't together if we're both gettin' jealous and hurt over other people.

And then her eyes shutter again, and the emotion's gone. I can't read her anymore. The message is clear: she's sayin' it won't work between us. We're partners, nothin' more. No amount of excuses will ever change that. It's better for us to forget these feelings, move on. So I turn back to Alex and smile.

"Your ready?"

She smiles back, that wry smile with its mockin' undertone. "Been ready."

Together we walk outta the bullpen into the Philadelphia sun. I can feel Lil's eyes on me the whole way.

* * *

**Happy ending coming...some time. Don't worry!**


	5. New Year's

**Sorry for the delay, guys. Real life stuff catching up to me. Here's a long chapter for you, though. Hope you enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: Cold Case is not mine, by any stretch of the imagination. **

* * *

I ain't one for spendin' holidays with girlfriends, if only 'cause I got a family the size of Texas, but this year, I figure it won't hurt to skip a family reunion. Instead, I pick up my coat at five and figure I'll cut out early from that station. It's New Year's anyway, and most of the detectives are gone for the night. Most.

Of course, when I slip on my coat and close up the last few files, I look up to find Lil still sittin' at her desk, her lamp the only source of light in the whole bullpen, her blond head bent over some papers. Sometimes I wonder how the hell Lil has time to eat and sleep, what with all the hours she puts into the job.

"Still here?" I say unnecessarily, slippin' on my coat as I walk over to her desk.

She looks up and catches sight of me. "Yeah, of course. Where else am I gonna be?"

"Home?" I suggest. "It's New Year's Eve. You ain't doin' anythin'?"

She shakes her head. "Nah. I've got paperwork to finish."

I frown. "It's _New Year's._ Paperwork can wait, Lil."

She sighs and bends her head over her desk again. "I don't have anything to do anyway, Scotty, so I might as well finish this up."

I open my mouth to automatically invite her to come for a drink, but remember just in time that it ain't only me goin' for a drink. I've already told Alex to wait for me at a nearby bar, and it would be damn awkward to have my girlfriend on one side and my partner on the other. So I shut my mouth again.

After a moment, she looks up at me. "Aren't you leaving?"

"What? Yeah, of course." I watch her for another moment, wonderin' if she really ain't gonna do somethin' for the new year. She ain't got a date with Trevor, or somethin' to do with her boyfriend? I'd been sure her boyfriend would drag her along to do somethin'. He wouldn't leave Lil all alone for New Year's, would he?

_Bastard._ It ain't nice by any stretch of the word to bash Lil's boyfriend, even in my head, but it sure is fun. And it pushes back some of that jealousy I still get. Even a month later, I'm still gettin' jealous. Damn, is it hard to get over a girl like Lil. But Alex's definitely helpin'. I just need some more time, that's all.

With a sigh, I say goodbye to her and collect my things from the lockers. The bar ain't far, so I leave my car in the parking lot and walk 'til I see the bright sign and lights. I duck inside and stamp some snow off my shoes before lookin' around. The bar's all full for New Year's, but I spot the red head in the crowd without much difficulty. Takin' off my coat, I head over.

"Scotty," Alex greets, grinnin' widely as she sees me. "I was thinking you'd decided to leave me hanging here."

I grin and kiss her quickly. "Wouldn't do that. Sorry I'm late."

She shakes her head. "No problem. I've been having my own fun."

Yeah, by the way her voice's less bitin' than usual, she's already knocked back one or two. She's loosened up, and I smile. It's always more fun when she's loosened up.

Sittin' down next to her, I order a beer and turn to look at her. "So, what do you wanna do tonight?"

She grins. "Get drunk."

I raise my eyebrow at the way her smile's a bit crooked and loopy. "Check," I say, grinnin' back at her. "What else?"

She doesn't think for long. "Go home."

I smile. "Sounds good to me. Anythin' after that?"

She smiles wryly. "You know what comes after that, Scotty." When I pretend to be clueless, she rolls her eyes and says in a loud whisper, "You know, flowers, candles, the _bed…_"

I raise my eyebrow at her again. "Flowers and candles? Wouldn't've pegged you as the romantic type, Alex."

She looks at me challengingly. "Really." At my nod, she shrugs and says, "You know, the really romantic girls are the ones who look like they wouldn't touch love with a ten-foot pole."

"Like you," I say thoughtfully. "And like Lil."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "_Lil?_ You mean your partner?"

Oh, crap. "Nothin'," I backtrack hastily. "It's nothin'." I ain't here to think 'bout Lil; I'm here to _forget_ 'bout her.

Luckily, before Alex can press me, my beer arrives, and we drink to the New Year. We drink and laugh and talk, but the whole time, I can't keep my mind from wanderin' to my partner sittin' all alone at the precinct on New Year's Eve, fillin' out paperwork like it's just any other day. Like it ain't a holiday everyone should spend with loved ones. What the _hell_ is Trevor doin'?

"Scotty? _Scotty!"_

"Huh?" I jerk back into awareness to find Alex starin' at me strangely.

"You're spacing out," she says. "You've been doing a lot of that lately."

Is it just me or am I thinkin' 'bout Lil more and more these days? Ugh. This forgettin' about her thing ain't goin' well at all.

Well. Nothin' a little drink won't solve.

So I smile and raise my beer. "We ain't drunk yet."

She laughs. "No, we aren't. To New Year's."

I lift my bottle and clink it to hers before takin' a long swig. The music suddenly gets wilder, and Alex reaches over and pulls me to my feet.

"What're we doin'?" I ask, followin' her.

She shoots me a surprised look. "Dancing, what else?" And she pulls me onto the dance floor, where dozens of other people are already crowdin' up the space. It's hot and stuffy, and I don't feel up to dancin'.

Alex looks at me standin' unenthusiastically there on the floor and raises a challengin' eyebrow. "What, Valens? You can't dance or something?"

I cock an eyebrow back at her, unable to resist the challenge. "Then you show me what you got, Alex."

And she does. She launches into a dance, and I watch her, a grin on my face. But somehow, it ain't her I'm seein'. I'm somehow lookin' nearly two months back, lookin' back to the night Lil and I exchanged almost those exact same words, back to the night Lil breathed excuses into my ear. I see her dancin' there all over again, her ponytail bouncin' wildly as she jumps up and down, her hips swayin' in that way that makes me wanna grab her and kiss her for all I'm worth. I see again that brilliant smile on her face, the one that makes my heart skip a few beats, the one that makes my knees go weak.

"Scotty!"

I blink, and it's gone. It's Alex again, dancin' in front of me, her cheeks all flushed. She grabs my wrist and pulls me into a dance, but all I can think about is how Lil's body felt against me that night, how her hair smelled and how I could feel her heart beatin' against her rib cage and mine. _God,_ I ain't over her in any sense of the word. How the _hell_ do you fall out of love with someone?

More drink. I figure that's all I need to wash my mind of my gorgeous partner. So I go back for another beer, and pretty soon, I'm loose enough to actually dance with my girlfriend without seein' blond. We're dancin' and laughin' and havin' a genuinely good time, and then—

—and then I'm punchin' some guy's teeth out. I ain't conscious of what I'm doin' 'til I hear Alex laughin' behind me, laughin' like she's watchin' a movie or somethin', not watchin' me sock a man a good one. With that sound, I jerk into awareness, my knuckles throbbin', my breath short and rapid.

What the _hell?_ What the hell just happened?

The bar's silent. I notice for the first time that the music's shut off and a crowd's gathered around me and Alex. The guy I hit is on the ground, his hand on his jaw, his eyes wide and angry.

Oh, damn it. _This_ is why it ain't good for me to knock back so many drinks. I do stupid, stupid things. Things that can very easily land me in jail.

Which is exactly where I am an hour later. I ain't surprised to hear the guy's pressin' charges. I'm still a little muddled and wonderin' exactly what the hell happened, but I know it has somethin' to do with Alex. Who's sittin' next to me in the cell.

"Remind me why you're in here again," I say, restin' my head wearily against the wall of the cell.

She shrugs. "The guy was feeling me up. I hit him."

And then I did. Makes sense. Still doesn't change the fact that he's pressin' charges, and Boss is gonna be pissed. Beyond pissed, even. I groan quietly and close my eyes as I think of the consequences. Damn it, not only am I probably gonna have to pay a hefty sum to get through court fees and compensation, I'm probably gonna get suspended and stuck with desk duty until Boss decides I've had enough. _Damn _it.

"It isn't that bad, Scotty," Alex says, eyeing my expression.

I snort. She's _clearly_ still drunk. "You're an ADA," I reply, starin' at the wall. "You know how bad this is." Who the hell's gonna post bail so we don't have to spend the rest of New Year's Eve in lock-up? It sure ain't gonna be Boss or Jefferies, and I figure Vera and Miller would rather leave me here to have a laugh about it. And Lil…

…is still at the precinct, probably. My heart leaps for a moment before I force myself to calm down. Lil probably ain't here anymore; it's nearly ten on New Year's Eve. She's got to be home with Trevor. And anyway, what makes me think she's gonna post bail for me and Alex? She ain't feelin' too kindly toward me right now; I've pretty much been gettin' the cold shoulder for a month straight. I ain't too optimistic on that front.

Besides, even if bail's posted, it ain't gonna stop the guy from pressin' charges, which puts a black mark on my career for good. I try to suppress a groan and lean my head back on the wall.

"Valens?"

I open my eyes to find a slightly pudgy officer standin' outside the cell, his thumbs hooked on his belt as he peers in through the bars. I resist the urge to beat my head against the wall. Oh, not him. Jeez, have I not been punished _enough?_

"Arnett," I say evenly. Of _course._ It ain't enough that I get crammed in a holdin' cell on New Year's Eve; I gotta give one of my least favorite officers in the precinct a chance to mock me too. I glare at him, at the smirk that's already formin' on his face.

He draws closer to the bars, his smirk widenin'. "Well, well, well. What the hell did you do to land in here, Valens? Kill someone?"

"No," I mutter, meetin' his eyes angrily.

He laughs. "Never thought I'd see the day I'd have you on the other side of these bars, Valens. Guess there's a first time for everything."

I just glare at him, not in the mood for arguin'. Honestly, I never thought I'd ever be on this side of the bars either. But I guess there _is_ a first time for everythin'.

He leans against the bars, raisin' an eyebrow at Alex. "Oh, boy. Don't tell me you got your girl locked up in here too." When I don't answer, he laughs loudly, mockingly. "You got your _girl_ arrested too? Landing in jail yourself not good enough? You got to drag your girl in too? On New Year's, no less! You're priceless, Valens!" His smile widens and he adds, "You don't have anyone posting bail, do you? You're gonna be in here until someone comes and gets you? That's just priceless. Oh, what a day. You've just made my _year_, Detective."

I clench my first and force myself to stay sittin' on the bed. It ain't gonna do me any good to go flyin' across the cell and punchin' Arnett's teeth out. I've already done enough to wreck my career in one night. Instead, I just grip the sheets of the bed tightly and glare right back at Arnett, wishin' my eyes could just burn a hole through his head.

He smiles smugly and tucks his thumbs back in his belt. "So it's just me and you this whole night, is it?" His eyes flick over to Alex, and he adds, "And your date, of course. What's her name? What's your name, sweetie?"

"Leave her alone," I snap.

Alex's still drunk though, drunk enough that she ain't all sassy. "Alex," she murmurs drowsily, leanin' her head on my shoulder. "Alex Thomas. What's yours?"

"Thomas?" he repeats, amusement flickerin' over his face. "That's my name, Thomas Arnett. Isn't that a coincidence?"

She laughs. "Yes, isn't it?"

"She's a nice one," Arnett mocks, eyein' the way her head lolls on my shoulder. "Where'd you find her? A bar?"

"Leave her alone," I repeat sharply, glarin' at him.

He smiles indulgently. "Sure, we can always talk about you instead. What're you doing in there, Valens?" His smile widens. "Judging by the way your girl's half-conscious, you must have been drinking. You caught drunk driving?"

I scowl, stubbornly meetin' his eyes. "No."

"Then what?" he asks, leanin' on the bars again. "Breaking and entering? Assault and battery? Robbery? You wouldn't stoop that low, would you, Valens?"

I grit my teeth. Damn it, I'm gonna have to put up with this bastard 'til mornin' at least. Can there be any _worse_ punishment?

"Kidnapping?" he drawls, with that damn smirk on his face. "Or maybe…your girl there was caught for prostitution?"

"You _bastard_," I snarl, startin' up off the bed. How _dare _he? My fist's clenched before I even consciously decide to move, and I lunge across the cell toward him, hot fury rushin' through me.

"Valens?"

The all-too-familiar voice yanks me to a stop before I can take more than three steps. Both Arnett and I turn to find Lil walkin' down the hallway toward the cell, her expression weary but still sharp underneath the shadows. She makes her way to the cell and stops in front of it, eyein' my fist and Arnett's smirk. But for some reason, she refrains from commentin' on it.

"Open the cell," she says to Arnett, wavin' her hand at the lock.

His eyes narrow. "What for, Detective?"

She glares right back at him, with that look that makes people twice her size back away. "To let him out, what else?"

"Bail—"

"Was posted," Lil says tiredly. She glares with her usual power, but I've known her long enough to be able to see past the strength to the real emotions underneath. I see that behind her thin walls, she's exhausted. I see she ain't sleepin' right if she's sleepin' at all, and that she ain't in any condition to work. She looks like a walkin' zombie, 'specially with the way she's still limpin' a bit in her cast. God, she looks awful.

"Cite out," she says, unfoldin' the piece of paper she's holdin'. "Got it signed and everything, Arnett."

He leans closer to peer at the paper, like Lil's word ain't enough. "Who's the arresting officer?" he says dubiously.

"Jackson," Lil replies calmly. I manage a grim smile. Jackson's on a good basis with Lil and me, and he's a good guy. He sure ain't gonna keep me in the cell on New Year's Eve.

"I'm going to need to have the arresting officer issue the cite out," Arnett says. I clench my teeth at his obvious attempt to delay the process.

Lil's obviously annoyed too. "What, you can't trust me? We're all cops here, Arnett. Scotty isn't gonna escape the trial and make a run for it. He isn't _that_ stupid."

Gee, thanks, Lil. But if it'll get me the hell outta here, I don't care if she insults me up and down. What matters is that she cared to come down here and look for me at all. I look from one to the other, watch them size each other up, and know with a rush of absurd pride that Lil ain't backin' down. When has she _ever_ backed down?

They glare at each other for another moment before Arnett breaks eye contact. With a grumble, he snatches the citation from Lil and scans it quickly. I know he ain't gonna find anythin' out of sorts, though, 'cause Lil's always careful about these things, and I'm right. Thrustin' the paper back at Lil, he unhooks the cell keys from his belt and unlocks the door, swingin' it open savagely.

"Have a good night, Valens," he growls, watchin' me help Alex to her feet. "Maybe we'll see each other soon."

It's a threat, one that makes me narrow my eyes. Well, I ain't gonna be disappointed if I never see him again, that's for sure. I glower at him as I help Alex outta the cell and into the hallway. He shuts the door with a bang behind us, and I don't look back.

Lil leads us back to the elevators, where she hands me the citation and her car keys. "Go wait in my car," she says tiredly, brushin' some hair outta her eyes. "I have to close up some case files before leaving."

I look at her for a moment, a hundred questions whirlin' in my mind. Like how she knew we were down in holdin', and how she got Jackson to issue a cite out, and why the _hell_ she ain't at home celebratin' New Year's with Trevor. I open my mouth to ask her, but before I can, Alex stirs on my shoulder and the elevator doors ding open. Without another word, Lil limps into the elevator and closes the doors, leavin' me alone in the lobby.

With a sigh, I stagger under Alex's weight out into the parking lot. It's deserted of cars this late at night and for New Year's, so it ain't a challenge to find Lil's car. I unlock the doors and buckle Alex into the backseat, brushin' hair outta her eyes. She's still way out of it, so I don't even bother to try to talk to her. Instead, I just shut the door and lean on it, hands in my pockets, waitin' for Lil.

It's a while before she appears out the doors, slippin' on her gloves as she comes. She has a couple of case files tucked under her arm, and I wonder why on earth she's takin' 'em home. She ain't plannin' to work right on through New Year's, is she? I wonder in disbelief if she's ever taken a break in her life.

"Hey," she breathes, her breath puffin' out in a cloud as she comes to a stop in front of me. She frowns at me, her eyes flickin' up and down. "You must be freezing."

I look down at myself and realize I'm holdin' my coat and scarf instead of wearin' 'em. It _is_ cold outside, probably close to freezin' temperatures, but the alcohol's deadened me to it. I'm sobered up a little, but not enough to really notice the cold. But I'm shiverin' all the same.

"Yeah," I mutter, fumblin' with my coat. I try for a long moment and just can't seem to find the sleeves. I frown in confusion; sure, I drank a lot, but I don't think I drank _that_ much.

Lil chuckles quietly in the silent night. Openin' the passenger door, she throws the files in on the seat before steppin' in front of me. She helps me find the sleeves, and I thank her, my cheeks heatin'. God, I must be seriously drunk. She tucks the collar down and buttons up my coat. As she moves up, her hands slow, and she looks up, our eyes catchin'. For just a moment, my breath catches in my throat as I look down at her, realizin' again just how gorgeous she is. I've been tryin' to keep my mind and eyes off of her for weeks now, and seein' her this close hits me all over again how breathtakin' she is. God, I wanna kiss her.

A faint flush spreads across her cheeks, and she ducks her head quickly. Am I imaginin' it? She coughs a little and reaches for somethin' in my hands. After another moment, I realize she's taken the scarf from me and is windin' it around my neck, tuckin' it in close to keep me warm. She's just so concerned and carin', even without meanin' to be. My heart swells.

She clears her throat in obvious embarrassment when she catches me gazin' at her. "Get in the car, Scotty."

I snap out of my daze and obediently open the car door and slip inside. Lil waits as I fumble with the seatbelt for a moment before findin' the clip and slidin' it into the buckle. When I'm secured, she starts up the car and pulls out of the parking lot.

We ride in silence for a long while. I try to figure out where we're headed—my apartment? Her house?—but drink's makin' my eyes all blurry. I can't read the street signs, so pretty soon, I give up and just sit back in my seat.

After a long while of silence, I clear my throat and ask quietly, "How'd you know…?"

"You were in holding?" She smiles humorlessly. "Heard it from Jackson. You should've seen the look on his face. He couldn't believe he'd arrested you."

"I can't believe he arrested me either," I mutter, lookin' out the window. Well, that explains that. But I still have questions.

"What were you doin' there so late?" I ask, turnin' back to her. "It's New Year's. You should be home."

She shrugs. "I was almost done with the McCullough paperwork, so I decided to finish it up. I had time."

"What about Trevor?" I ask, confused. "Ain't he waitin'?"

She lets out a frustrated growl and shoots me one of the iciest glares I've ever seen from her. "God, Scotty, you just don't get it, do you?" she snaps. "I'm _not_ going out with Trevor anymore. We broke up months ago. I don't get why you keep thinking I'm still seeing him behind your back."

'Cause she lies to me all the time, that's why. 'Cause he showed up on her doorstep with a whole bouquet of lilies, and 'cause she said I was the problem, all those long days ago. But, I reason, she really ain't one to keep on with a lie after bein' called out on it. I mean, she lies all the time about bein' fine when she ain't, but what's the point of hidin' her relationship with Trevor from me? Unless she really _ain't_ datin' him…

I shake away the thought and the automatic rush of joy that suffuses me. I ain't supposed to be gettin' all happy to hear that Lil's available, and I ain't supposed to be wantin' to lean right over and kiss her. I'm gettin' over her, one day at a time, one girl at a time. I ain't supposed to be lookin' back and fallin' for her all over again.

"Really?" I say, unable to stop myself. I have to know.

She glares at me briefly before turnin' her eyes back to the street. "Will you actually believe me this time?"

I nod. "Yeah."

"I'm not dating him. I'm not dating anyone."

I nod again, slowly. "Okay." Then, after a moment, I say a bit sheepishly, "Sorry for bein' such a jerk about Trevor then."

She smiles briefly. "Apology accepted then."

And just like that, the ice that's been stretchin' between us since Trevor came up again melts a little. We settle back into the partners-friends thing like she ain't been givin' me the cold shoulder for a month now, and I marvel at what mere words can do. Three minutes and the last thirty days are almost completely erased. Almost.

Because when Alex stirs in the backseat, Lil's eyes harden ever-so-slightly, and she says, "I'll take you two back to your apartment."

I sigh at the returnin' coolness to her tone and lean my head back. "Yeah, thanks."

She drives the rest of the way in silence and pulls up to my apartment building not ten minutes later. Alex is snorin' in the backseat, so Lil gets out and helps me unbuckle her and carry her up the stairs. We reach my door, and Lil shoulders Alex's weight so I can pat my pockets for the keys. Finally findin' them in my pants pockets, I unlock the door and step into the dark room beyond.

Lil flicks on the lights behind me as I take Alex and carry her to my room. I kick the door open and nudge back the covers on the bed before layin' her down, takin' off her shoes, and coverin' her again, makin' sure she's tucked in warmly enough. That done, I return to the livin' room, where Lil's standin' awkwardly next to the couch.

"You can sit, you know," I say wryly, grinnin' at her.

She smiles faintly and sits on the edge of the couch, obviously exhausted. I wonder how long it's been since she had a good night sleep. Judgin' from the shadows under her eyes, too long.

With a sigh, I take off my coat a lot more easily than I put it on and sling it over the back of the couch. I sit heavily next to Lil, leanin' back and closin' my eyes.

"I should go," she says after a moment.

"Don't," I say automatically, grabbin' her wrist as she starts to rise. When she raises a questioning eyebrow at me, I say, "Stay for a while. You don't look too good."

"I look better than you," she says wryly. "I'm fine, Scotty."

"I ain't swallowin' your lies," I say sternly. "Not tonight, Lil. You ain't in any condition to drive, and it's New Year's."

She doesn't see the connection. "So?"

"No one should be alone on New Year's," I tell her. "So sit."

I can tell she ain't really in the mood for arguin'—that or she's just too tired—'cause she sits without sayin' another word. I'm relieved she doesn't protest, relieved and concerned all at once. Relieved 'cause it gives me headaches tryin' to out-argue Lil, concerned 'cause if Lil was feelin' all right, she'd never give in so easily. She must really be burned out.

"You sleep okay?" I ask her softly, not lookin' at her.

She doesn't meet my eyes. "I sleep fine."

I ain't convinced. "You eat okay?"

"I'm fine, Scotty," she says, startin' to get annoyed. "What's up with the interrogation?"

I look away. "Nothin'. I just…worry about you, that's all."

"You might do a better job of worrying about your girlfriend," Lil says, her tone bitin'. "Keep her from punching people so I don't have to bail you out of jail again."

Oh, she's gettin' prickly, which means something's gettin' to her. She's jealous? I wonder. I remember that night in the bar where she admitted to me that she got jealous over my girls and wonder if it's still true, wonder if she gets as jealous as I still do over Trevor. Wonder if it really means somethin' more.

"Sorry about that," I say with a sigh. "I owe you one, Lil."

"Yeah, you do." She sits back a little further into the couch, relaxin' a bit. "You owe me big, Valens."

I smile. "I'll make it up to you."

She laughs. "How? Coffee?"

I shrug. "If that's what it takes."

After a moment of silence, I reach for the TV remote. "Want to watch the New Year's?"

She shrugs and smiles faintly. "Sure. I don't have anything better to do."

No, she doesn't. Except readin' case files, of course, which I ain't gonna let her do. She's gonna rest if I have to rope her to my couch.

I switch on the TV and find the countdown to midnight. Twenty-six minutes and countin'.

"We should make New Year's resolutions," I say suddenly, turnin' the volume on low. I don't know why I said that, but it sounds about right. I get the feelin' that this year's a year for change.

She smiles. "I don't believe in that."

"We should do it anyway," I answer. "And do stuff for luck, you know?"

"What?" she asks wryly. "Like having tall, handsome dark-haired men step over the threshold of the house at midnight?"

I laugh. "Is that actually done?"

She nods. "Ray believed in all that stuff. He used to insist that he be the first one to step into the house at midnight."

"Tall, dark, and handsome," I laugh. "We gonna find one of those before midnight?"

Lil grins. "I thought we already had one." And she looks at me.

I stare at her, at her probably unintended compliment. As I look at her, surprise flits across her face, followed by an adorable flush. I can see that she said that without thinkin', and the fact that she's all embarrassed over it makes me want to pull her into my arms. Instead, I just laugh.

"Really?" I say in amusement. "You think that?"

Blushin', she glares at me, at my smirk. "You're tall and dark-haired," she mutters.

"And _handsome?"_ I prompt teasingly, grinnin' at her.

"And a conceited ass," she shoots back, still obviously blushin', even in the dim light.

"A _handsome_ conceited ass," I correct, grinnin' smugly when she flushes harder. God, she's adorable.

"Maybe," she mutters. And then when I raise my eyebrow, she grumbles reluctantly, "All right, handsome. But I didn't say that."

"Yes, you did," I say, my smile widenin'. "I heard you."

"You're drunk," she accuses. "That doesn't count. You could be hearing all sorts of things."

"Oh, so we're chalkin' it up to the drink then?" I say, raisin' my eyebrow. Oh, familiar territory, and territory I like.

But she falters. Her good-humored glare fades, and uncertainty enters her eyes as she draws back a little.

"Lil?" I ask in confusion, wonderin' what I said wrong.

"Excuses," she murmurs quietly. "Again?"

I frown. "You don't wanna make 'em?" Is this a one-sided thing or what? She's makin' me dizzy with all the mixed signals she's sendin' me.

She sighs and visibly gathers herself for a moment. I hold my breath, wonderin' if we're gonna go with the excuses or if she's gonna push me away again. For a long, breathless moment, I think it's gonna be the latter. But when she looks up at me again, that mischievous spark is back in her eyes.

"How about we chalk it up to the New Year's celebration instead?" she asks brightly, or as brightly as she can manage with all her sleep-deprivation and exhaustion.

So she _does_ wanna do this? I shake my head slowly in confusion but decide that life's too short to not go with it. So I let a smile spread across my face as I say, "Sure, Lil. We'll chalk it up to anythin' you want."

I look back at the TV. "Twenty minutes left. Any resolutions?"

"I don't believe in resolutions," she says, grinnin' a little, "but in the spirit of New Year's, I guess we should make some."

I wait for a long moment, but she doesn't continue. I raise an amused eyebrow at her and say, "So make some."

She sighs. "I don't know. What're we supposed to say?"

I shrug. "Anythin'. Whatever you want."

She hesitates. "You go first."

I sit back in the couch and think for a moment. There're so many things I wanna do better, things I wanna fix. I wanna quit bein' so rash all the time, think things through a little more. I wanna catch more killers this year. I wanna force Vera to quit takin' all the donuts from the break room. And most of all, I wanna stop achin' when I think of Lil.

I shrug and shake my head slowly. "I don't know."

She glances at me. "It's harder than you think, isn't it?"

"Sure." But it ain't that I don't have resolutions; it's that the most important resolutions I wanna make are things I wouldn't say to Lil even if someone stuck a gun in my face.

We sit in silence for a moment before Lil sighs heavily and stares off at the TV. "You remember that Darby case a couple of months back?" she asks suddenly. When I stare at her blankly, she adds, "Six-year-old girl, strangled to death, no suspects?"

I remember, and a somber mood settles abruptly between us. "The one we couldn't close?" I wonder why on earths she brought that up.

She nods, her eyes dark with emotion. "We couldn't find justice for that little girl, Scotty. She's lying there six feet under now, and the only closure her family will ever get is finding her body. We couldn't do anything to flush out the killer, no matter what we tried."

"We did everythin'," I say quietly, starin' at the TV too. "It just wasn't enough."

"Yeah. It wasn't enough. The killer got away, and we just set her box back on the shelf for a later date, like we could just pack up the murder and forget about it. Like it wasn't a human _life _we'd been investigating." She sighs and looks down at her shoes. "But who knows? Maybe someday, years down the road, another cold case squad will take a look at it and figure out what we couldn't."

She sounds so sad. I can't help but reach over and take her hand, squeezin' it gently. "We can't win all the time, Lil," I say softly.

She blinks and looks at me, her eyes catchin' mine. "I know. But I want to do better this year. Let's not have anymore Darbys."

I smile at her. "Agreed. Let's not have anymore Darbys."

Simple and personal. A perfect resolution. But I don't think it's enough.

"Let's do a little more," I say, glancin' at the clock on the left of the screen. "We still have some time."

She laughs a little. "I don't have anymore."

Liar. She's got to have more goals in life than that. But it's okay; I don't wanna tell her some of mine either. So I just shrug and watch the celebrators in Times Square as they wave their millions of flags and banners and wait for the comin' of the new year.

"Hang on," I say suddenly, pushin' myself off the couch. I duck into the kitchen and return before Lil can even ask what I'm doin'.

She eyes me dubiously. "Wine, Scotty? You sure that's a good idea?"

"It's New Year's," I say. "If there's any day we should be drinkin', it's this one."

I pop the cork with the corkscrew and hand Lil one of the two glasses I dug outta the kitchen cabinets. She watches me uncertainly but doesn't stop me as I fill up my own glass before fillin' up hers. I set the bottle on the table and sit back on the couch.

"To the new year," I toast, holdin' up my glass.

After a moment, Lil rolls her eyes and holds hers up too. "To the new year."

And in front of the TV, ten minutes away from the countdown, we clink our glasses and drink to better days.

When we're done sippin' the wine, we sit in comfortable silence, just thinkin' over our drink. Thinkin' and rememberin' the good times we had in the past year and hopin' we have better times to come.

"Remember Antonia?" I say quietly, watchin' my wine swirl in my glass.

"How could I forget?" Her voice is hushed. "That's one of the cases I don't think I'll ever forget."

"We did good on that one." I swish the wine around and watch it slosh and settle. "We did good."

After a long moment, she nods. "Yeah, I guess we did. We found the guy _and_ Antonia, alive. Isn't often we can save the victim too."

I smile. "And if it weren't for you, we woulda never thought to dig any deeper. I was so sure it was the teacher."

She smiles too. "We _all_ saved her. _And_ put away a nasty guy where he can't do any harm anymore."

"We did good," I repeat, smilin' faintly at the memory. "We do good together, Lil."

She nods, her eyes far away, deep in thought. "We do," she murmurs, raisin' her glass for another sip.

My mind turns to darker cases, darker times. Unable to help myself, I say, "Remember the Stevens?" Almost as soon as the words are outta my mouth, I curse myself. Damn it, I've just _got_ to ruin this perfect moment with bad memories, don't I? Of _course_ she remembers. She was almost burned to death, and only a few weeks ago too. She still has the cast to prove it.

She stiffens ever so slightly. "Yeah, of course I do." Almost subconsciously, she reaches down to touch the cast hidden under her work pants.

Despite myself, I shiver, rememberin' the day, rememberin' the terror. "I was so afraid you were dead," I whisper. "I thought you were dead."

She looks away. "I thought I was too, for a moment there. But I'm fine now."

Right. She's _fine._ I look at her shadowed eyes and sleepy gaze and know she ain't fine at all. She turns and her eyes catch mine briefly, and I see the memories swirlin' there, memories and pain.

"Sorry," I mutter, lookin' down at my glass of wine. "Don't know why I brought that up."

She shakes her head and sighs. "It's okay." After a second, she manages a weak smile. "Let's not have anymore Stevens either, okay?"

I force a smile too. "Deal."

We drink to that resolution, and pretty soon, there're only two minutes left till countdown. We set the empty wineglasses on the table, not botherin' to refill them, just watchin' the celebration goin' on in Times Square.

"Hey, Lil," I breathe, watchin' the numbers tick on the screen.

"Yeah?"

"You ever hear 'bout that New Year's tradition? The one 'bout two people kissin' at midnight on New Year's makes for good luck in their relationship or somethin'?"

She nods. "Yeah. Ray and I might've tried it once or twice. Didn't seem to turn out too well, did it?"

I turn my head, so close I can smell the wine on her breath, so close it would only take the smallest movement to touch her lips with mine. "Well," I breathe, mesmerized by the way her eyes gleam in the light of the TV, "you wanna see if it works this time?"

God, I'm bold. I must be completely drunk off my ass. Or drunk on the hope of excuses.

She stares at me, clearly startled. "_What?"_

I'm beyond carin' 'bout anythin' at this point. I've already gone this far, and everythin' in me wants to push it all the way.

"Let's make some good luck this year," I whisper, tracin' the line of her lips with my eyes. It's all I can do to hold myself back.

She pulls back, eyes wide. "It's for people in a _relationship! _Scotty, _what_ are you thinking?"

She sounds incredulous. Disbelievin'. And underneath the surprise, afraid. _Afraid._

Of what? Of me? Of what we're doin'?

"Yeah, relationship," I say, my eyes flickin' up to hold hers. I smile a bit at the flush on her cheeks. "Partnership. You want us to have some good luck in our partnership next year, don't you?"

Oh, excuses. She knows very well that 'relationship' in the New Year's tradition sure ain't talkin' about a relationship between partners or even friends. I know that too. But we've been bendin' truths for a while now. I hope she does it again, just this one time. I wanna kiss her so bad I can hardly breathe.

And then somethin' in her eyes crumbles, and she reaches for me. I move when she does, and we meet in the middle, lips searchin', findin' that familiar feelin' we had every time before when we touched each other. I find that sweetness again almost instantly, and it makes me groan quietly against her lips. She closes her eyes and leans into me, her arms around my neck as we press against each other. I pull her into my arms and ease back till I'm layin' flat on the couch and she's on top of me, kissin', breathin', groanin'. Every time, every time, she tastes better than I remember, and every time, I wanna hold her in my arms forever and forget about the world. So I do, if only for a moment.

She pulls away with a gasp, her eyes bright. I'm afraid for a second that she's gonna push me away again, like she did in her house. That she's gonna say I'm the problem, that's she's gonna regret it all. But she doesn't pull completely away, just pushes herself off me a little.

"For the partnership," she breathes, her eyes meetin' mine. "Good luck for the _partnership_."

_And for the hope of a relationship,_ I think, my heart racin' against my ribs, still breathless from the kiss. But aloud, I just say, "Yeah, for the partnership, Lil. What else?"

She smiles like she sees right through me, and I wonder if she does. I wonder if she's known all along how I feel about her and if she's just pretendin' she doesn't 'cause she's afraid. I wonder if she's known the _I love you_ in the parkin' lot the first night we kissed is the truest thing I've ever said.

And then she leans down again, and we kiss, long, hot, and hard. I'm pretty sure I ain't ever gotten lightheaded over a girl before, but Lil sure does some crazy stuff to me. She makes me breathless and dizzy with her sheer gorgeousness, and I think I'm about to explode from wantin' to touch her. Wantin' to take her and make her mine.

The crowd on TV begins the chant. "Ten…nine…eight…"

Lil pulls off my chest again, pullin' back enough so she can look in my eyes. We stare at each other, brown on blue, emotions stretchin' between us, passed through gazes alone. I say with my eyes what I'm too coward to say out loud, things like _I love you_ and _Let's try bein' more than friends._ I say it all, and I imagine that she says things too. Only, it ain't all my imagination, I think, 'cause I sure ain't creative enough to make up that turmoil of emotions flickerin' through her eyes, and that warmth in her gaze, there for just a moment and gone the next, sure couldn't make me shiver like it does if I was just imaginin' it.

"…four…three…"

"Hey, Scotty," she whispers, her breath stirrin' on my lips, makin' my heart thud against my chest.

"Yeah?" I whisper back, tryin' to memorize this moment, memorize how absolutely amazin' her body feels against me, how her curves press up against me just right.

"New Year's resolution," she says, just as the countdown reaches one and the screen explodes into light and cheers as the new year flashes on and fireworks explode.

I can't stop starin' at her eyes, her clear, blue eyes. "What is it?" I whisper, wonderin' what she's gonna say.

"Let's stop lying," she says solemnly, her eyes locked on mine. "To each other. To ourselves."

"What do you mean?" I ask softly. "I don't lie to you, Lil."

Her lip quirks up in a half-smile, and she says, "I mean about everything, Scotty. Let's stop lying this year."

I don't really get what she means, but she seems serious about it, so I say, "Okay. Sure. Let's stop lyin'."

She smiles slightly. "Then let's stop with the excuses."

My stomach drops, and I can't stop the disappointment that flashes across my face. "Stop 'em?"

She nods, her smile still fixed in place. "I mean, if we're not going to lie to each other—to ourselves—anymore, we won't need excuses, will we?"

"Yeah." Yeah, we ain't gonna need excuses. We'll just stop doin' all this stuff like kissin' and holdin'. I clench my fist. _That's_ her New Year's resolution?

"Okay then," I say, a little stronger this time, tryin' to keep from seemin' disappointed. It's hard to keep my face straight though, to act like what she said doesn't hurt. "So what do you wanna do?"

I'm lookin' away from her, so I'm startled when she leans down and presses her lips to mine again. Instantly, sparks are leapin' between us again, and I lean into her, lovin' her taste, lovin' _her._ But before we get too far, I pull back, confused as hell about what she means by tellin' me we gotta stop with the excuses and then kissin' me.

"What's the excuse this time?" I demand softly.

"No excuses," she says. "Didn't I say that?"

I stare at her in confusion. "Then the kissin'…What the hell are we doin'?"

"Maybe," she breathes, "we're finally being honest with each other."

I'm confused as hell. "What?"

"Maybe this—" She gestures between us. "—maybe this is real."

"_Real?"_ I repeat, not followin' her.

"What if we don't need excuses because this is real?" she asks in a rush, her blue eyes searchin' mine. "What if what's between us is _real_, what if it's _there_?"

"Between us?" I echo, starin' up at her. "You mean…?" Slowly, slowly, the pieces are comin' together.

She nods. "When I said stop lying, I meant about everything, Scotty. So tell me the truth."

"About what?"

Now she hesitates. Some of the determination I see in her eyes weakens, and I see that she almost doesn't answer. She almost backs away. But I've never seen Lil be a coward in all the years I've known her, and she ain't startin' now. Takin' a deep breath, she says, "When you said you loved me, did you mean it?"

I suck in a startled breath, feelin' as breathless as if she's punched me. Is it _real? _Is it _true?_ Did I _mean_ it?

Is my name Scotty Valens?

I almost chicken out. I almost back off, blame it on the drink, blame it on an excuse because I'm too chickenshit to risk our partnership. But Lil's lookin' at me with that piercin' gaze of hers, the one that's practically a polygraph in and of itself, and I know I ain't got the chance of a snowball in hell of lyin' to her. Besides, I can't be breakin' the New Year's resolution three minutes into the new year.

So I take a deep breath too and say simply, "Yeah, Lil. It was."

I hold my breath, worried how she'll react, but it turns out I don't have much to worry about 'cause Lil smiles. She smiles wide, and it's that gorgeous, alive smile that I saw that night two months back in the bar. I have to swallow hard to keep from crushin' her against me again.

"You meant it?" she repeats slowly. "You're sure?"

I look at her, look into her eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure. I've been sure for years now." Many, many years, so many years it feels like forever. I can't remember a time I wasn't in love with Lil.

She laughs. It's quiet and breathless but somehow full at the same time. She leans down and kisses me but pulls away before it gets too deep.

"New Year's resolution," she says, smilin' wide. "Let's stop being scared."

She's seen it. Somehow she's seen into me in that way she has, seen past all my bravado to the fear inside. That's the simple truth of it: I'm scared. Scared of what Boss'll say, scared of what Lil'll say, scared of wreckin' our partnership for good. And when I look into her eyes, I see those same fears mirrored in her eyes.

But she's willin' to fight past them. She's willin' to fight for us, to struggle past her fears to try this new thing between us. And if she's brave enough to do that, I am too.

So I smile, reachin' up to brush a golden strand of hair outta her eyes. "Okay, Lil. Let's stop bein' scared."

She smiles brilliantly again and presses her lips to mine. And this kiss tastes better than all the ones before it because this time, it ain't 'cause of excuses. It ain't us blamin' it on the adrenaline or drink. It's just _us_. Us bein' together for real, without lies. It's free.

She pulls back and laughs into my shoulder, and before I know it, I'm laughin' too. Laughin' about how I started the night in a jail cell and ended it with Lilly Rush in my arms without pretenses, without excuses. Laughin' about how surreal it all is. Laughin' 'cause she looks so adorable laughin', her eyes glowin' like I've rarely seen 'em before, her whole face lightin' up. God, she's gorgeous.

And as we're layin' there on the couch, grinnin' like idiots at each other, the TV still runnin' with New Year's cheers fillin' the air, the door behind us opens with a quiet creak, and a sleepy-lookin' Alex trots out, yawnin'.

"Scotty?"

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**Reviews please :)**


	6. Someday

**Kind of short, but as always, I hope you enjoy it. Reviews ALWAYS appreciated :)**

**Disclaimer: Cold Case isn't mine by any stretch of the imagination.**

* * *

Man, I tell you, I ain't a violent guy. But at that moment, I got absolutely no qualms about knockin' Alex out again so Lil and I can keep havin' the night of our lives. Kickin' Alex to the curb sounds pretty appealin' right then too, but I don't get a chance to act. Instead, the instant she hears Alex's voice, Lil flies off me so quickly she's almost a blur. Her shirt untucked and her breath comin' in pants, she looks between me and Alex guiltily, her hands clenchin' like she ain't quite sure what to do with 'em. I just freeze on the couch, wonderin' if everything's about to blow up in my face.

"Scotty?" Alex repeats, eyein' me and Lil. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Lil says quickly, before I can even open my mouth. She holds up somethin' in her hands and says, "We're discussing a case."

Those are _case files_ in her hands. _Case files!_ I wonder incredulously how the hell she snuck them into the apartment past me while helpin' me carry an unconscious Alex in. And if she's got them, it means she was plannin' to work on them too. Jeez, she has got to be the worst workaholic I've ever known. I make a mental note to ask her about her smugglin' techniques later.

Alex nods and yawns. "Oh."

Oh? _Oh?_ I stare at her in shock, wonderin' if she's really just gonna let us off like that. I mean, here I am _makin' out_ with my partner on the couch while my girlfriend is conked out in my bedroom. If there ain't somethin' wrong with that picture, then I don't know the meanin' of the word _wrong._

But, by some miracle, it seems like she hasn't noticed a thing. The alcohol must really be screwin' with her, because Alex just leaves it at that and asks, "Is there anything to eat?"

Lil's the first to move because I'm still too stunned to do more than blink. She says, "I'm sure Scotty has something in the kitchen," and ducks out of sight. A moment later, she returns with a glass of water and a slice of pizza on a plate.

"Is that good for her?" I whisper as Lil hands Alex the pizza. "I mean, she's just been drinkin' and all…"

Lil smiles wryly. "I'm pretty good at hangovers, Valens."

Oh. Right. I remember her mother and wince at both my seemin' insensitivity and in sympathy. I can't even begin to imagine what she went through as a child, and I curse myself for makin' her relive those memories through Alex. Through my _girlfriend_, to make it all that much worse.

We watch in silence as Alex downs the water and chomps down on the pizza. I draw a little closer to Lil, emboldened by Alex's obliviousness, and, when Alex ain't lookin', touch Lil's hand gently behind her back. She shoots me a startled look before grabbin' my fingers briefly, her cheeks flushin' slightly. I know then that what happened on the couch wasn't a spur of the moment thing, wasn't somethin' that Lil just got caught up in the spirit of celebration with. It was real, and it's somethin' she's really gonna try. The thought makes me break out into a grin so wide it almost hurts. She's _in_ this, and _I'm_ in this. Can it get any better?

And then out of the blue, Alex throws a hand over her mouth. I just stare at her, completely lost on what to do, but Lil leaps up and all but manhandles Alex into my bathroom. I follow them quickly, wonderin' how on earth Lil remembers where my bathroom is when she's only been in my apartment maybe twice, and watch as Lil throws open the toilet seat and holds back Alex's hair. I wince as my girlfriend empties the contents of her stomach down the toilet and marvel at how unruffled Lil is.

"Sorry about this," I say into the silence, rubbin' a hand embarrassedly through my hair. "'Bout makin' you take care of Alex like this."

She laughs softly, bitterly. "You don't think I've been taking care of drunks all my life?"

Damn it, I've gone and brought back bad memories, just when things were goin' so well. I don't know what to say except, "Sorry," so I apologize again, wishin' I knew what to do.

She smiles, bitterness gone. "It's okay. I'm used to it. And it's worth it."

She looks over at me, and I smile back at her. Hell yeah it's worth it. If we can keep bein' honest to each other, if this all works out, I'll take a dozen drunk Alexes. Hell, a hundred of 'em.

Eventually, Alex empties her stomach and slumps down next to the toilet, moanin'. "I feel like hell." She glances at Lil and a look of almost embarrassment crosses her face. "Sorry," she mutters.

Wow. Never heard _that_ word cross Alex's lips before. Lil works wonders.

Lil shakes her head and says, "It's fine. You'll feel better after you get some sleep."

I straighten in the doorway, takin' my hands outta my pockets. "Yeah, get some sleep," I say sincerely, tryin' to mask my eagerness. Yeah, get to sleep so Lil and I can have a conversation or two. And more, if I'm lucky.

Alex nods, lookin' too weak to protest, so I heave her up into my arms and carry her back into my bedroom. When I straighten up to leave, she clutches at my shirt, her eyes hazy.

"Don't leave," she murmurs drowsily. "Stay."

She looks so much like a child then, so innocent, that I'm swamped by a huge wave of guilt. God, what am I _doin'?_ I'm in love with Lil, but I'm goin' out with Alex, who I'm startin' to think is in love with me. What's worse is that Alex thinks I'm in love with her, or at least she doesn't have a clue about my feelings for Lil. I feel like the biggest bastard on earth for deceivin' her like that. How the hell did I screw everythin' up so badly? And how the hell am I gonna fix it?

I force a smile and sit down on the bed beside her, brushin' some hair outta her face. "Go to sleep, okay?"

"Okay." She closes her eyes and turns toward me. She looks so much nicer restin', like she ain't about to snap your head off for sayin' somethin' wrong. I sigh softly and watch her silently, fondly. Yeah, that's it. I ain't in love with Alex, but I've got a soft spot for her. Maybe, in better times, we could be friends. Maybe.

Finally, her breathin' slows, and I can tell she's slipped off into sleep. Leanin' forward, I press a soft kiss to her forehead, a kiss of friendship and a sort of goodbye, before risin' and leavin' the room. I shut the door softly behind me and return to the livin' room.

Lil's sittin' on the couch, her case files open on the table in front of her. She's starin' at the papers, but I can tell she ain't really readin' them. There's somethin' on her mind, and it ain't good. I wonder what's the matter now and sit beside her quietly, waitin' for her to talk to me.

"This isn't right," she says finally, softly.

I pause. "What ain't?"

"_This_," she says, gesturin' at the space between us. "_Us._"

I resist the urge to bang my head against the coffee table. How many times has Lil gone into this and backed out in the last minute? How many times have I hoped, only to be shot down seconds later? God, will this woman never stop torturin' me?

She sees my expression and laughs briefly. "No, I don't mean that I don't think we're real, Scotty. I know we are. I know that we have something between us that's more than partners, and I think we should try it."

I look at her. "But?"

"But it's not right," she finishes. "It's not right that you're dating Alex and I'm drawing you away."

"You ain't drawin' me away," I argue. "You've been the one all along."

She smiles. "I'm glad I am. But it doesn't change the facts. When you're with that ADA, you can't be with me."

"I ain't really cheatin' on her," I mutter, reachin' out to catch Lil's hand.

Lil laughs. "That's _exactly_ what you'd be doing, Scotty." She squeezes my hand gently before pulling away. "So nothing can happen between us until you and Alex are over."

I look at her, knowin' she's talkin' the good and honest truth, and wishin' I'd had the sense to just tell Lil the truth from the beginnin', before I got into this mess with Alex. With a sigh, I say, "You're a good person, Lil. You got better morals than I have."

She chuckles. "I've _got_ to have good morals to be a cop, Scotty. And…" She flushes slightly, adorably, as she adds, "It isn't all about morals, Scotty. I'm more jealous than I look."

I laugh too, lovin' my gorgeous partner in that moment more than anythin'. "I knew there had to be an ulterior motive, Rush." I lean back into the couch and stretch my arms back, sayin', "I'm glad you still get jealous. Means you really like me, don't it?"

She smiles and pretends to think for a moment. Finally, she says simply, "I guess it does." She leans back into the couch too, and after a moment, presses up against my side. I'm surprised, but my arm automatically wraps itself around her shoulders. She fits snugly under my arm, and I can't help but smile. The last girl who felt so right was Elisa, so it must be a good sign. Lil and I must be on the right track.

"I like you a lot too," I tease, leanin' my head so it bumps up against hers. "Actually, you have no idea how much."

"I got some idea," she says, grinnin'. "Just to let you know, I like you just as much."

I grin. "How much?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Enough to bail you and your girlfriend out of jail on New Year's Eve, that's how much."

I wince. "You ain't gonna let me forget about that one, are you?"

She laughs. "Definitely not. You're paying me with coffee for the next three years."

I look at her and can't help starin' at her lips. "How 'bout kisses instead?" I murmur before dippin' in to catch her mouth with mine.

It's a long moment before she pulls away. She tries to glare at me, but it's failin' miserably, what with her laughin' and all.

"We can't do this," she says through her smile. "Alex—"

"Is out of it," I say. "And the couch is damn comfortable. You don't want that to go to waste, do you?" I reach forward and play with her hand for a moment before trailin' my fingers down her face, down her throat, down…

She slaps my hand away gently, obviously tryin' hard not to grin. "You're a horrible influence."

"It ain't convincin' you though," I observe.

"It's convincing me more than you think," she answers wryly.

I raise my eyebrows questioningly, and she looks away, blushin'. As an experiment, I run my fingers lightly up her arm, and she shivers slightly, leanin' into my touch.

"You like this?" I ask softly.

She sighs. "You have no idea. But…"

"But we can't," I finish. I pull back away from her, though it's one of the hardest things I've ever done. "All right, I'll stop temptin' you."

"Thank you." It comes out slightly tense, like she's holdin' herself back. She looks up and meets my eyes, offerin' a slight smile. "Someday, Scotty."

I groan. _Someday?_ That's way too long, way too ambiguous. For all I know, Lil might forget, or move on, or decide that what we have ain't real after all, and I'll be left high and dry. No, no, no, it'll be _tomorrow_, if I have anythin' to say about it. _Tonight,_ if I get real brave and tell Alex the truth the instant she wakes up.

I sigh. "It's a good start to the new year, don't you think?"

She levels a skeptical look at me. "You mean besides the situation we're in?"

I laugh. "Yeah. Besides that."

She shrugs. After a moment of hesitation, she scoots a little closer to me and slips her hand in mine. I look down at our tangled fingers and back up at her in surprise.

"This isn't too hard," she says, not lookin' at me. "It isn't too tempting, I mean. I can deal with hand-holding."

I chuckle, wonderin' if I really do have as strong an effect on Lil as she has on me. It's kinda heady, havin' that sort of power, and I have to force myself not to experiment some more just to see how far my power goes. I wonder if Lil's the type of girl who's all tough and unyieldin' on the exterior but turns to mush if someone touches her just right. I'm already gettin' the feelin' she is, and I can't help but grin at how cute that is.

I let out a half-sigh, half-groan. "I can't tell you how bad I wanna touch you right now."

She throws her head back on the back of the couch, facin' the ceilin' with her eyes closed. "Don't say stuff like that."

I eye the curve of her throat and practically have to sit on my hands to keep from reachin' out to her. "Why?"

She smiles slightly, her eyes still closed. "You have no idea how badly I want you to touch me right now."

My eyes widen, and for a moment, I can only stare. Sure, I kinda know what sort of effect I have on Lil, but I never expected her to actually voice it out loud. It's a whole new Lil I'm seein' tonight, and I can't say I don't like it. In fact, it's amazin'.

I can't really stop myself. I reach out before I can think and touch her cheek gently, marvelin' in how soft her skin is, how warm it is. Despite her earlier protests, she leans into my touch, and I grow bolder. I trail my fingers down her cheek, across those kissable lips of hers, down past her jaw…

I stop and retrace her jaw, feelin' a slight bump under my fingers about halfway down to her chin. I might've kept goin' then and forgotten all about that little bump, 'cept Lil stiffens under my touch and jerks back abruptly, her eyes flyin' open.

"Lil?" I ask, worried I did somethin' wrong.

She looks at me, her eyes wide. Then a flush of embarrassment spreads across her cheeks, and she shakes her head. "Sorry. That was…stupid of me. Sorry."

"It wasn't stupid, was it?" I guess. There's somethin' there, somethin' about that spot that tenses her up. I wonder what. "What…what happened to your jaw?"

She closes her eyes again, but this time, it ain't 'cause she's feelin' all lustful. It's like she's shuttin' away painful memories, and that alone makes me sit up straighter, more serious now.

She licks her lips and sighs. "It's…Scotty, I don't want to talk about it."

"Now?" I ask, raisin' an eyebrow. "Or ever?"

Irritation flashes across her face for just a moment before she sighs again and opens her eyes. And just like that, I see her buildin' her walls again, slowly but surely. She's shuttin' me out.

"Don't do that," I say softly, more worried than angry. "Don't you pull away from me."

She hesitates, and in that brief second, I grab her hand and tell her truthfully, "I ain't gonna push you, Lil. I don't care if you don't wanna talk about it, ever. I don't care what happened, not unless you wanna tell me. I was just curious."

She stares back at me for another long moment, one in which I'm holdin' my breath and hopin' to God I haven't ruined this perfect night. I've already risked it a dozen times, but we've pulled through each rough patch. Let this night go on forever.

Finally, she sighs, and those walls, those damn walls, in her eyes crumble. I can't help but let out a sigh in relief and flash her a grateful smile.

"Thank you."

She shakes her head. "No, thank _you_. For not pushing, I mean. But…someday, Scotty." She looks me in the eye and repeats solemnly, "Someday."

We're gonna put it in out box of Someday, then. Okay. I got no problem with that. Only _when_ is Someday?

I figure it's way too early into our little twisted relationship-non-relationship to ask, so I don't. Instead, I just sigh contentedly and squeeze her hand.

"What are we going to tell Boss?" she wonders aloud, leanin' her head on the back of the couch and lookin' at me. "_Should_ we tell Boss?"

"Boss is smart," I answer. "He'll figure it out."

"Maybe." She chews her lip in the most adorable way, and I wonder what the hell kinda cruel fates in the world made it so my _girlfriend_ is asleep in the other room while the woman I love and I cuddle on the couch.

"And Miller," I say. "She's sharp. I ain't sayin' anythin' for Vera, 'cause he can't see anythin' unless it's through a donut hole."

Lil laughs. "That's true. But Jefferies is just as sharp as Boss. The whole squad will know before we tell them anything."

I look at her and brush my fingers across hers. "Then maybe we should tell them first?"

"Or we could never tell them at all," she muses. And then she shakes her head and smiles ruefully. "No, that'd never work."

"Why not?"

She smiles at me and shakes her head again. "'Cause you couldn't be subtle to save your life, Valens."

I can't get offended at such an adorable smile, no matter how hard I try. I just scowl at her in mock-indignation and say, "Sure I can. I can be as subtle as I want." To prove my point, I run my fingers lightly up her arm, makin' her shiver and causin' her breath to catch.

She laughs softly, breathlessly. "That isn't exactly subtle, Scotty. Thank goodness you aren't going in there and running your fingers all over Boss."

I laugh too at the image of it. "Yeah, that probably ain't gonna go over so well."

She sighs and shakes her head slowly. "I guess we'll get over that obstacle when we come to it."

_When we come to it._ I remember, again, with a thrill that she's in this just as much as I am. We're really doin' this.

"In the mornin'," I promise suddenly.

She looks over at me in confusion. "What in the morning?"

"I'll tell Alex in the mornin'," I say, hookin' my fingers through hers again. "And we can…"

"It'll be Someday?" she fills in, smilin'.

I smile back at her. "Exactly. In the mornin'."

"In the morning," she promises, and I don't think I've ever been so happy in my life.


End file.
